


Come Let Us Adore Him

by ikindaneedahero



Series: Come Let Us Adore Him Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, Congressman Draco Malfoy, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/F, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other, Political Campaigns, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Protective Draco Malfoy, Rich Draco Malfoy, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 162,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikindaneedahero/pseuds/ikindaneedahero
Summary: Hermione Granger scoured the subreddits, perused the checklists, and read virtually everything possible on how to be an all star Congressional intern and staffer. She had her job responsibilities well in hand, but instructions on how to handle the attention of an upstart Congressman Draco Malfoy were nowhere to be found.US politics AU: Congressional staffer Hermione, Congressman Draco
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Come Let Us Adore Him Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178261
Comments: 717
Kudos: 632





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been half completed in my drafts for three years, and I finally felt compelled to finish the first chapter following the election. If you don't like politics, this isn't for you. I have worked on Capitol Hill and everything in this fic will be very accurate in terms of DC and the US House/Senate. If I don't explain anything well, let me know and I'll explain in comments :) Let me know what you think!

Hermione had read the blogs, prowled the relevant subreddits, followed the niche Instagrams, and despite the jokes and warnings, she couldn’t help it... She felt pride at the heavy weight of two cellphones in her hand, a confidence set in her shoulders at the knowledge that her badge was now black instead of the hideous orange that’d pegged her as a House of Representatives intern for everyone to see. She was finally a full-time staffer.

At the end of the day, she shrugged off the fact that she’d now become a joke to some. She was making $32,000 to work 80 hour weeks and be berated by old men and women who had nothing better to do than call every elected Democratic politician on Capitol Hill… if she wanted to feel important for being a Staff Assistant, she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her.

Despite her inner-pride, she adhered to all of the rigid, sacred advice that she’d received from Percy Weasley, her university-appointed mentor while interning. Percy was the Legislative Director for Congressman Cornelius Fudge from Arkansas, a member who couldn’t be picked out of a prison yard lineup by most Americans, but the twittersphere knew due to viral videos of his idiotic comments on climate change and vaccines in committee hearings. She was careful never to mention those in Percy’s presence. 

She’d been a bit hesitant after finding out Percy was a Republican on a quick glance at his Linkedin, but she’d quickly realized how naive she was for her snap judgement. Finding a source who was both trustworthy and honest on the Hill was rare, and Percy proved to be both. The redhead shared her enthusiasm for public service, and had made sure she was fully set up to succeed as an intern.

Much to her surprise and Percy’s on-the-nose prediction, she’d realized a week into her summer internship that no one else was anywhere near as committed to being hired post-grad as she was.

Her internship was for her hometown Congressman, James Potter, and of the five DC interns the office had that summer, she was the only one who was enthusiastic about the work they were doing. She remembered complaining to Percy in a hushed voice during one of their bi-weekly Longworth Dunkin Donuts meetup, eyes constantly darting around to ensure her staff or interns weren’t there listening in. With only three coffee shops in the entirety of the House complex, it was exceedingly difficult to find privacy for a meeting.

Percy had smirked at her, before blatantly telling her ‘I told you so’ in a way that made it clear he had 587 siblings.

The knowledge that no one else was clear competition for a job post-grad had her working harder than ever, and by the time she’d finished up her internship that August, Rep. Potter’s Chief of Staff, Remus Lupin, called her in for a meeting via email with no details.

‘Come to my office at 3:30pm for a short meeting.’

What was she supposed to make of that? Her stomach had dropped when she’d received the curt email, looking around to ensure no one else was curious regarding the sharp gasp she’d inhaled. By that point, three months into her time in the office, she was less nervous about the shortness of the email and more about what would come of it. Time was money, and that meant most personal communications she received from her colleagues were to the point and without punctuation.

Remus, a man whose intelligence and kindness allowed for him to become one of the most respected chiefs of staff on the Hill, had given Hermione a smile as soon as she’d walked into his office. A perk of Rep. Potter having served in Congress for 9 terms was a spacious office. She’d been in other offices while collecting signatures and truly could not imagine working in a space without a kitchen or a chief of staff having a private office. But, unfortunately, that was the reality of working in the House.

She shut the door to Remus’ office, quickly noting that the door that led into Rep. Potter’s office was open, which was odd to her. She knew their boss was in the office, and his door was always shut when he was there to give him a semblance of privacy that the small office could never fully grant.

“Sorry to be so secretive, Hermione. Just didn’t want to perk any ears,” Remus smiled, guiding her through the open door into Rep. Potter’s office. She’d been in the spacious office before, a bit awed by the large black leather chair that sat behind the man’s dark wood desk that was always covered in papers.

“Hermione! How are you?” Rep. Potter asked, his round glasses perched on the edge of his nose. The man was thirsted after by progressive Twitter for a clear reason; he was handsome, and he was a fierce advocate for the least, the lonely, and the left behind. Hermione felt blessed to have even been interviewed for his office, knowing the work that he continued to do in Congress on behalf of the State of Washington and the entire country.

“I’m well, sir. How is your day going?” Hermione asked politely, moving to sit on the couch that was to the left of his desk while Remus took the leather chair directly in front of it. The selection offered by the Architect of the Capitol’s furniture store was wanting, but James had transformed his office into something uniquely his over the four terms he’d had this office for. The walls were painted Action Green and College Navy, the Seattle Seahawks’ colors, something that Hermione had now become accustomed to smiling enthusiastically about every time a new group of tourists or others from the district came into the office. She had no idea how her boss and his longtime staffers kept up excitement for things they’d discussed countless times

“I’m just great, Hermione. I’ll be even better if you say yes. Did she say yes, Rem?”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat; were they… surely, it was too early. She stopped her train of thought before it could hit full speed.

“I haven’t yet, no,” the mild-mannered man replied. “Hermione, we’ve been truly thrilled with your work here for us this summer. We’ve seen a lot of interns come through the office, but only a few that truly stick out as Team Potter material. From your work with Lee clearing out the letter backlog to the reviews you’ve gotten from constituents after tours, we truly couldn’t think of someone better to hire. If you’re willing, of course.”

“I’m…” Hermione swallowed, shaking her head before smiling. “Thank you so much, Congressman… Remus. I would love to join the team, but I’ll need to finish up my schooling. Are you certain there will still be an open position come January?”

The problem, Hermione found out, with securing a job on the Hill was timing. There were only so many staffers in each Member’s DC office, with employees being split between their Congressional office at the Capitol and back home in district offices. In order for her to be hired, someone would have to leave.

That was something Percy warned her against; becoming more inured to her office than working on the Hill itself. The chance of there being a job in Rep. Potter’s office open when she graduated in December was small; she’d need to be able to secure a good recommendation from her office, of course, but she’d likely have to find work elsewhere in the new year.

“Divya is heading to law school in the spring semester; she took it upon herself to let us know early so that we could offer you the position before you leave,” Remus smiled.

“Oh, I’m so honored!” Hermione smiled brightly. “Yes, absolutely… I can be here as soon as I graduate. Thank you so much! I promise you won’t regret this.”

“No, I don’t think we will. You might once you’re on the team full time,” Rep. Potter laughed. “You’ll just need to keep an eye on my Harry for one more semester, hm?”

Hermione let out a laugh. “Of course, sir. He does well when he’s engaged in the course material… grad school will be good for him.”

“I sure hope so, with how much it’s going to cost!” Rep. Potter replied. “All jokes aside, it’ll be nice to have him out here in DC, considering it’s where I spend most of my time these days.”

A knock on the door sounded, and Penelope Clearwater, his DC scheduler, popped her head in.

“James, Mayor Kielwina is on the line. I will patch her through.”

“Oof, forgot about that,” the man muttered as though having Seattle’s mayor on the line was an everyday occurrence. Which, for him, it likely was.

Remus looked over in time to see Penelope rolling her eyes. She’d been with the man long enough to know he forgot all of his meetings unless she reminded him.

Hermione followed Remus’ lead and stood up.

“Pleasure, Hermione! We’ll celebrate you all tomorrow with some pizza, okay? I wish I had more time to spend with you all…”

“Of course, sir,” Hermione smiled. “Thank you again.”

Remus shut the door to the man’s office, and Hermione let out a breath. It was always a bit unnerving to be around her office’s principal. Percy promised that it’d get easier when she was fulltime and not only interacting with him as he walked into the office, popped his head in and promised that he’d spend time getting to know the interns soon. Sure enough, three months later, they had only spent time with the man when taking photos in front of the Capitol last week.

For Hermione, though, that was enough for now. She’d posted her photo on Instagram and Facebook immediately, wanting to let everyone know how her summer had gone. She was proud, okay?

There were those who assumed her friendship with Harry had been the impetus for her receiving her internship, but she knew that wasn’t true. The boy barely talked to his father, spending most of his time drinking at his frat house. Hermione had no idea how their friendship had formed outside of a bit of pity on her end and a lot of desperation to pass constitutional law on his.

“This is unfortunately a bit informal until it’s formal, Hermione. Just know you have a job once you leave school and the details will be squared away closer to January. Thankfully, it’s not an election year so it’ll be a bit easier to get you settled in,” Remus smiled.

“Of course, sir. Thank you again… I can’t begin to explain how much this means to me.”

“I’ve been where you are, Hermione. I know how you feel, and I’m here to help get you settled.

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled.

xxxx

“Shit!” Tonks, James’ brilliant, yet mostly unorganized Communications Director called out.

“What now?” Penelope called from her desk.

Hermione tried not to look over at them, even though they clearly knew everyone could hear their conversation. Their bullpen was far more spacious than that of other offices, but it still placed the two interns lucky enough to be working on computers at one table with barely any room to breathe.

The full time staffers had connected cubicles, four on the left side of the office and three on the right. Divya, the Staff Assistant, sat at the front desk in the main office, while Remus had his own office that had a door connecting it to Rep. Potters. Everyone knew everything that was going on in the back office, and that left Hermione both perturbed and feeling like she knew exactly what she’d be getting into once she was on staff.

“I need an intern to go take photos at the Capitol steps for the health care presser,” Tonks groaned. “I have to head to Longworth for my weekly E&C comms meeting. ‘Mione, can you go? Pretty please?”

Hermione turned to look at the woman whose head was peeking out of her cubicle, a desperate smile on her pretty face.

“Oh, of course, as long as it’s okay with Divya,” Hermione replied. She was bursting to get up and walk around, having eaten an obscenely large slice of pizza.

We, the Pizza was a Capitol Hill favorite, but a slice of their pizza was large enough to make her sick. She enjoyed the fact that they’d had an office lunch, and they were able to truly see Rep. Potter in his element. He was an entertainer at heart, and he flourished under the light questioning of his outgoing interns. Hermione noticed the way the full time staff zoned out, clearly having heard him answer the very generic questions asked by Hermione’s fellow interns.

“Sure!” Divya called from up front. See? Everyone could hear everything, they only pretended not to.

“Here’s the camera, you know what to do,” Tonks said, thrusting the Canon T7i into Hermione’s hands. She did know what to do; Tonks had shown her the ropes of taking photos, and she quite enjoyed the diversion from her normal day-to-day tasks. She didn’t want to be a press staffer, no way in hell, but press events gave her a chance to see large swaths of Members and hear them speak. It was like the nerd equivalent of attending a red carpet event; anyone who was anyone in the Democratic House majority attended pressers that took place on the Hill steps.

“Now?” Hermione asked, eyes wide.

“Starts in 10,” Tonks replied with a sheepish look. “It’s pouring, I suggest going through the tunnels and out through the carriage steps.”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed, refusing to look cowed. She grabbed her blazer and one of the many umbrellas that floated around the office for common use. Knowing she’d regret it if she didn’t, she slipped out of her in-office flats and put on the pair of black heels that she wore whenever she stepped out of the office, even if it was just the bathroom.

After she saw Secretary of Education Sprout being escorted by a Secret Service agent through the hallways of Rayburn on a quick trip to the bathroom, she never made that mistake again. You never knew who you’d see, and even if it meant blisters… her heels were going on. Better to look the part and feel the pain than look like a total frump. It was a bit antithetical to her normal belief that intelligence was everything, but she was doing her best to adapt to Hill culture.

Navigating the Capitol complex seemed like an impossible feat at first, but after spending her first weekend with her intern badge walking through the complex and looking like she belonged there, she had the hang of things. Flag office? No problem. HC-5? No problem.

Hermione quickly became her office’s go-to intern when tasks like letters and legislation briefings needed to be completed in the office and when something needed to be brought elsewhere in the actual Capitol complex.

The House offices were easy to navigate. Rayburn, the one they worked in, was the toughest of the bunch with hallways that looked exactly the same no matter how long you’d been a staffer. Cannon and Longworth were much easier, and it took a simple fool to navigate those.

But the actual Capitol? There was a reason that there were no publicly available maps of it; safety and security in the face of threats. But on the last day of her internship, Hermione stood confident that she’d be able to either successfully hide or escape if there was, God forbid, an emergency while she was in the Capitol. It was with great pride that she could navigate the building, from Senate to House and Old Supreme Court Chambers to the Chaplain’s office. So yeah, it made sense that Tonks was asking her to bolt from Rayburn to the subway to the Capitol to the carriage doors that’d take her outside to take photos of their boss.

One of the trains, thank heavens, was pulling up as Hermione had made it past the shoeshine station, waving to Rafael who was cleaning the heels of Rep. Bones from Florida.

She’d made it her duty to befriend anyone and everyone who worked in the Capitol complex; that wasn’t a piece of advice from Percy, but it was an instinct that’d done her well.

Whether it was Darnell the Capitol Police officer keeping the Independence Ave door open for her as she ran down the hallway right before it was scheduled to shut at 7pm or Lucinda at the hot sandwich and fried food station in Longworth caf giving her extra onion rings… she had worked hard to build meaningful relationships. It wasn’t something that came easy to her, but she was proud of the ties she’d built.

Hermione drummed her legs impatiently as she sat down on the open-topped train’s leather seats, hoping that the operator, who she didn’t know and couldn’t even think about chatting with at this juncture, would leave soon. She didn’t see any Members of Congress walking down either escalator bank towards the train, she figured they would. And thankfully, they started moving.

She was careful not to bang the camera against the train as she hopped out with a large smile and a thank you, receiving a lazy wave in return.

For someone relatively unfit, she’d gotten to a point where she could speed walk up and down the Capitol and Metro escalators without breaking a sweat, something that she always appreciated when friendly people made conversation with her at elevator banks. Nothing worse than having to give a lost tourist very explicit instructions while barely able to breathe.

No one was at the elevator, though, and she moved to hop in. The door was almost shut when a large hand slid into the middle of the closing shafts, a daring move that only senior staff and Members attempted.

“Don’t you see the sign? Members only,” a sharp voice called out.

Hermione’s heart sank, looking down submissively as four men with Member pins fastened to their suit jackets stared at her pointedly.

“No respect at all for the position anymore,” a second southern voice called out.

Hermione moved out of the elevator immediately, trying to stem her burgeoning tears at the chastisement. She’d always hated being yelled at or corrected and worked as hard as she could to ensure it didn’t happen. But today? To be yelled at publicly by Members of Congress? Nothing could’ve felt worse.

Not to mention the fact that the sign clearly stated “Members of Congress only when votes are called.” There were no votes until 4:30pm, which wasn’t for hours. Hermione knew that, otherwise she wouldn’t have hopped onto the elevator. For someone who always followed the rules, she tried to let her desire to respect her elders overrule her desire to ask them if they had read the sign.

“Not even an apology,” the first voice murmured as the men stepped into the elevator.

“Come in, miss,” a new voice called. “Clearly my colleagues can’t read, I apologize on their behalf.”

Hermione looked up through slightly watery eyes to see Congressman Draco Malfoy waving her into the elevator while his three colleagues looked on with confused expressions, as if it was their right to yell at a 20-year-old girl who was likely the same age of their own children.

She tried to hide her excitement at meeting Rep. Malfoy, even under these circumstances. The man was a bit of a legend, regardless of his political party. Republican or not, Draco Malfoy was certainly the most attractive man in the entire government, whatever President Shacklebolt’s fans had to say about it.

He was talked about as the future of the Republican Party; he crossed the aisle to work with Democrats and was candidly honest on his social media platforms that he often posted on himself, in a move that was far different from the typical conservative. He was a man that you hated, adored and envied in the same breath if you were his colleague in Congress. And he was standing up for her, not that it shocked Hermione after all she’d heard from gushing GOP interns at happy hours over the past few months.

Rep. Malfoy was known for his kindness as much as his congressional prowess, a stark contrast to the typical political figure that his father, Senator Lucius Malfoy also from North Carolina, cut. They were a political dynasty, and she as well as anyone knew that a bit of awe and fear were inspired by the Malfoy men.

“I’m okay, sir, you go ahead.”

“No ma’am, please. I insist,” the man repeated. Hermione felt herself moving in automatically at the authority in his tone. She’d have to unpack that later. “There are no votes for hours, the sign wasn’t to be followed. What floor do you need?”

“One, please,” Hermione said quietly, standing in the corner of the elevator and trying to take up as little space as possible.

The sound of the man pushing buttons filled the uncomfortably awkward space.

“I’m sorry again, miss. Hopefully you don’t encounter us again,” the blond smiled.

“It’s my last day,” Hermione smiled weakly as she fixed the camera around her neck, readying herself to open the umbrella and bolt out of the Capitol.

Congressman Malfoy groaned, “Look at that, y’all ruined her last day.”

“Read the sign next time,” the original angry man said, shrugging. Hermione looked up enough to see that it was Congressman Marcus Flint, the sole representative for the State of Montana. Figured. She was disturbed that a man who clearly couldn’t read or comprehend words was voted into Congress to represent an entire state. Well, that was democracy in action.

Hermione darted off after that, shaking her head to try and get her head straight. She had photos to take, and hopefully would never experience the embarrassment of being chastised by random Members of Congress again.

xxxx

“I’m sorry,” Zacharias told her, shrugging his shoulders as though he was anything but. “They said that only the member signs… I’m not sure what else I can do.”

“You’ve called back?” Hermione asked, sounding far more patient than she felt.

“Twice. They said he’s in meetings, he’ll be free around four,” the intern replied.

Hermione didn’t know if she’d ever get over the weirdness of lording over interns who were the same age as her, but she felt less bad when they were screwing everything up.

Divya had warned her in the extensive exit memo she’d worked up that spring and fall interns would always be worse than summer ones due to the smaller applicant pool.

Zacharias Smith was Rep. Potter’s only full time DC intern this spring, and he was awful.

Hermione spent as much of her time watching over him as she did learning her own job, and the fact that he couldn’t even get a bleeding signature on their boss’ new bill was enough to have her ripping her hair out. Had it really only been a month since she’d begun? How many gray hairs had she grown?

“Hermione? Have you taken the signed bill over to the Floor yet?” asked Frank, Rep. Potter’s Legislative Director.

The man, like Remus, had been with the Congressman since his fledgling political ambitions had been rooted as a member of the Seattle City Council many moons ago. Frank had no ulterior motives; his wife, Alice, was a lobbyist for the cruise industry and made more than enough money for him to be able to do what he loved. Which, clearly, was working in a congressional office on health and environmental legislation.

“No,” Hermione smiled, steeling herself as she pushed back from her desk. “I’m going to get Rep. Malfoy’s signature now and then will walk it over.”

The man returned to his desk at that, clearly having received the answer he wanted.

“But…” Zacharias said dumbly as Hermione none too gently took the paper from his hands.

Hermione stepped into her heels, still far shorter than the stocky, athletic intern as she whipped out of the office.

Thankfully, Rep. Malfoy was on the third floor of Rayburn while they were on the first, making it easy to catch an elevator to the man’s office.

One of the first lessons that Percy had taught her was that it didn’t matter who you annoyed as long as it wasn’t your own principal or senior staff.

She’d taken that lesson to heart after receiving a call from a man who’d claimed to be a friend of the Potters the first week of her internship and immediately patched it through to Remus.

Remus, kind as he was, told her to take a message before calling her back to his office. He said that she would receive many calls from people claiming to be friends of the Potters. But anyone who was truly their friend would know how to contact them in a way that wasn’t their congressional office. It made sense, of course.

So from then on, Hermione didn’t feel bad taking the name, organization and reason for the call from every single person who called in, outside of those who were calling from inside the building. A nifty feature, that was; all calls that were coming from other House offices would have the Member’s name pop up in caller ID, making it easier for her to patch calls through to her colleagues.

So now? She didn’t care if she pissed off Draco Malfoy’s staff, not when her boss was supposed to speak on the House Floor following votes for his newly introduced legislation to lower the cost of prescription drugs.

His bipartisan legislation, too; a bill that was being led with Draco Malfoy, which was a feat in itself. Bipartisan health legislation? It was almost unheard of and sure to make a splash in the media.

She knew that Tonks would have a fit if the bill wasn’t actually introduced by the time the two members spoke on the floor later that night and held a small press conference with interested members of the national press tomorrow morning. So, she was justified in barging into 2373 Rayburn, politely of course, and telling the woman at the front desk that she needed to have the Congressman sign the piece of paper in her hands immediately.

“Hi there,” Hermione smiled, resisting the urge to run a hand down her royal blue Calvin Klein dress that looked like every other three-fingers thick sleeve Calvin Klein dress she had in her closet. They were all from TJ Maxx and Marshall’s for the low price of 19.99, and looked perfect with the many blazers she’d picked up at the same stores for cheap. Sure, she wished she could indulge in different fashions and elevate her business professional look, but for now, Calvin Klein dresses would have to cut it.

“How may I help you?” the crisp looking woman at the front desk asked in a sugary sweet southern accent. Hermione put her at a year or two older than her, not that her gel-coated curls helped her youthful look at all.

“I am from Congressman Potter’s office and need a signature for a bill our bosses are introducing tonight,” Hermione said kindly, knowing the woman had already heard the speech, likely less primly, from Zacharias.

“Oh,” the woman nodded, a smug smile of a scheduler on her face. Why did Rep. Malfoy have his scheduler at the front desk instead of his staff assistant? “Your colleague was already in here. Unfortunately, the Congressman cannot sign right now.”

“You don’t have a designated staff member to sign in his stead?”

Hermione had been shocked, and slightly dismayed, to find out that Members of Congress barely ever wrote or signed their own documents. Whenever a bill or sign-on letter came into the office, Frank would sign in what was an uncanny replica of their boss’ signature. Asking somewhat nervously during one of their coffees, Percy had laughed and informed her that every office had someone sign for the boss. He was in charge of his boss, Rep. Cornelius Fudge’s signature, something he was proud of.

“No, only the Congressman signs. He’ll be available tomorrow, but he’s unfortunately stuck in meetings for the rest of the day,” the girl replied, sounding anything but sorry. Hermione had only been working full time for a month and already realized how paperthin apologies were here.

“I absolutely understand that he’s busy, but the congressmen are introducing the bill tonight, speaking on the House Floor and holding a press conference in the morning. Our LD, Frank Longbottom spoke with your health LA about it? Theodore Nott? If he’s available, I can speak with him,” Hermione said, hoping she didn’t sound as frayed as her patience felt.

“Theo is unavailable as well,” the girl replied, as though Hermione couldn’t hear the rumbling noise of a busy back office. Rep. Malfoy was only serving his fourth term in Congress; Hermione knew how small the office would be without even seeing it.

“Well, I can wait here for Congressman Malfoy’s signature then.” Hermione replied breezily, moving to sit down in a chair.

“Ma’am, you can’t stay here. The congressman won’t be available to sign, and we need to keep the front office open for guests.”

“What is it, Marietta?” the Congressman asked, walking out from the back bullpen with a stack of papers in his arms.

“Oh,” the woman blushed, looking flustered at her boss walking out. Hermione knew from experience that James would hide in the back office until guests left; it was easier than entertaining them in conversation. “She… is from another office and needs you to sign something, I told her you have meetings and she’ll come back tomorrow when it’s convenient, sir.”

The congressman, in all his handsome, blond glory, turned to look at Hermione. He sized her up, cocking his head for only a moment as though he was trying to place her before speaking. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if he gave up or remembers the awful gaffe that closed her otherwise brilliant Hill internship up.

“No worries, can’t keep a lady waiting,” the man smirked. “Come with me, we’ll sign in my office.”

Hermione followed after him, fighting the urge to turn and give the bitchy scheduler a smug smirk. She couldn’t, though, not when the southern man held the door to what was clearly his office open for her and then surprisingly shut it.

The move made her uncomfortable; this was the beginning of what her Office of Congressional Workplace Rights and Responsibilities training warned was likely a scene that would end up with an ethics investigation for the Member of Congress. But honestly, that train of thought was a bridge too far.

She was just… Hermione. And this was Draco Malfoy, a man who was known to be unmarried, but far too high above the station of coming onto a lowly staff assistant when his entire staff was right outside. She was a Democrat, too. It’d never happen, no matter how fun it was to fantasize about.

“Oh! Is that the new Jonathan Haidt book?” Hermione asked despite herself, blushing as it became clear she was looking at everything laid out in neat piles on his desk. Far, far neater than Rep. Potter’s desk, she noted.

“It is,” the man replied easily, sitting down at his desk and grabbing the blue felt tip pen they all seemed to favor. “Have you read it yet?”

“It’s not out to the lowly masses yet,” Hermione laughed. “The Righteous Mind was brilliant… I was so excited when I saw he was writing something new.”

“It’s your lucky day, miss. I just finished, all yours,” the man replied, pushing the book over a stack of papers towards her.

“Oh, I couldn’t, sir,” she replied, shaking her head.

“You know you want it,” he smirked. Hermione hid a shudder. They were in a room together, and his words could so easily be construed another way. Danger. Zone.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your kindness,” Hermione replied easily, not arguing further. She’d simply ‘forget’ the book when she left. She placed the sheet of paper she needed signed on the desk, grateful for the high-cut of her dress that didn’t allow for anything untoward to be shown.

The last thing she needed was anything coming out of this meeting that wasn’t professionalism, not when her boss entrusted her with getting this bill to the finish line.

“Ah, with Rep. Potter?” he asked as he read over the sheet. There was little if any text; just the bill name and two lines for signature, one that’d already been completed by Frank for their boss.

“Yessir.”

“A Democrat,” the man said as he signed, as though he were rolling over the thought in his head. “Not sure I pegged you for one.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Hermione replied despite herself. The man seemed like he wanted to bait her, and she’ll be damned if she wasn’t trapped, hook, line, and sinker.

“I remember you,” the blond said, low voice caressing the syllables. It didn’t escape Hermione’s notice that he kept the paper close to him, ensuring that the conversation wasn’t over. “In the elevator last summer.”

Hermione blushed, looking down. There was no reply there.

“Flint’s a real… piece of work. Nothing to call him that’s polite in front of a lady such as yourself, but just know I let him have it.”

“Thank you sir,” Hermione replied, looking up and smiling at the man softly. Who was he and why was this happening? She’d never been in a room alone with her boss, so why was she here, alone with Draco Malfoy?

“Never let me see you cryin’ over him again, you hear? Or any other of my colleagues… you come find me if someone gives you a hard time.”

“Thank you,” Hermione repeated, unsure of what the right answer was. How was she supposed to continue the conversation when he was only giving her these earnest, part-sexy, part-fatherly replies?

“I see you’ve made your way to a black badge. Congratulations on becoming full-time.”

“Thank you, I came back recently after graduating,” Hermione smiled, sharing more information than she’d meant to. When the man was so kind and genuine, it was hard not to continue the conversation. This was how he had flipped a seat in the heavily blue City of Charlotte, though, wasn’t it?

“Cheers to that,” he smiled. “James treating you well?”

“He is,” she confirmed. “Congressman Potter is my hometown member, and I’m grateful to learn from him and his team.”

“And look at this, you even get a little bipartisan interaction on one of your first days… glad to be a part of your comprehensive workplace experience.”

Hermione let out a giggle. “Thank you for signing…”

“Will you be at tomorrow’s press conference? On the triangle, right?”

“Yessir, it’s on the House Triangle, providing the weather holds up. I’ll be there taking photos.”

“Ah, into press, are we?”

“No,” Hermione said with a vehement headshake. “Just helping out.”

“You’re a good girl,” the man replied, voice hanging heavy between the pair. Hermione looked up under her eyelashes, noticing the moment he’d realized he crossed the line. “Here’s the sheet, you know how to get this to the Floor?”

“Yessir,” Hermione replied, reaching across the desk to grab it from him, more conscious than ever of what she was wearing. Was the congressman looking at her in the way she thought he was?

“Pretty cross,” he replied, looking up from where her silver cross hung innocently against her chest. “What’s your name?”

“Hermione… Hermione Granger.”

“Hermione,” Draco repeated, like he was weighing her name in his mouth.

She nodded, turning around and willing herself not to trip and not to shake her hips in any way that could have him thinking she was willing herself on him. The only thought in her head as she walked purposefully towards the House Floor was that he was definitely looking at her in the way she thought he was. Unfortunately, this wasn’t something Percy could help with; she’d have to sit with this tiny predicament all by herself.

By the time she’d returned to her office, curls puffing around her head in a way her expensive shampoo and conditioner promised they wouldn’t, a book and small note sat on her desk.

“Some intern dropped that off for you,” Zacharias noted as she walked in, having the decency to blush slightly when he saw she no longer had the sign-on sheet in her hands.

Hermione took a sip of water through her metal straw before looking down at the note.

**We’ll discuss once you’ve finished. Enjoy, Hermione.  
-DM ******


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all just came pouring out. Please let me know if you liked it!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com :)

Hermione finished the book that night.

Her roommate was barely ever at their apartment, choosing to spend her meager government contracting salary out at the bar instead of on food or savings. 

It worked out well for Hermione, though; she didn’t have to hole up in her small, cold room that likely had no insulation in order to escape Lavender and her equally vapid friends. No, she could sit on the surprisingly nice and new couch that they’d gotten off of Craigslist. Her roommate had brought three of her beefy, thankfully sober, friends with them to pick up the couch, thinking they may get murdered. 

The fear wasn’t too far off, though; she’d heard horror stories from people who’d gone to pick up furniture only to be invited in for a drink by a lonely 60-year-old man who didn’t have the advertised bed frame anywhere in sight.

So their $25 L-shaped leather couch was where she curled up to read Haidt’s newest book with the knowledge that an inscription reading ‘Congressman Malfoy, I hope you enjoy my newest book. Keep up the good work, we’re counting on you.’ was inside. 

Congressman Potter never kept any of the books that he was given, either by those he met with or authors who sent them to the office, but always kept the free candy. 

Being the lowest on the office totem pole, Hermione was always last in line for books, which meant the only ones that even came across her desk focused on government conspiracies or were trashy motivational reads. So having this copy in her hands meant a great deal.

After finishing the book, Hermione warred with herself. Did she throw it in her large Kate Spade tote and bring it to work the next day? How would she even get it back to the Congressman? 

What if she gave it to Marietta and the girl never handed it back to Rep. Malfoy and he sought her boss out for having a thieving staffer? There were too many possibilities for things to go sideways, so she shoved the book in her bag, carefully covered in a reusable canvas tote she normally used for groceries so that she wouldn’t spill water or food on it.

Hermione brought the book to the press conference, always toting around her most convenient purchase. She’d bought the large purse before her internship at the National Harbor outlets right outside of DC. The $99 large leather Kate Spade tote that was the most expensive piece of clothing she’d ever bought, but also $140 off due to it being two seasons old. Even her logical mind couldn’t turn that down. Nevertheless, she used the bag enough that it had paid off and also allowed her to carry her life around the Capitol complex without juggling papers in her arms like a fool.

Much to her chagrin, she didn’t have the opportunity to talk to Rep. Malfoy as the press conference took place in the middle of a vote series and both members had to rush out and in. 

She could see the blond man speaking angrily to a staffer who looked a year or two older than her as he walked down the steps of the Capitol, moving over to the small patch of grass where there were six cameras and ten print journalists milling about. 

The House Triangle was a prime spot for a press conference, close enough to the Capitol that there were USCP or Capitol Police everywhere and a beautiful view of the Capitol dome behind them that’d be visible in photos and videos.

Hermione was ignored by her own boss who was deep in conversation with a reporter from the Washington Post as Frank and Tonks stood by in case they needed to interject.

Unlike many unfortunate others, they were lucky to have a boss who didn’t need to be babysat while speaking with reporters. Rep. Potter knew his shtick, and was seasoned enough not to need a reminder of what he should and shouldn’t say.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rep. Malfoy said as he walked up, standing behind the small podium that had a short placard that Tonks had created with a graphic reading “LOWER DRUG COSTS NOW” on it. Simple and to the point.

“Draco, how are you?” Rep. Potter greeted, waving off the reporter and moving to shake his colleague’s hand jovially. 

Hermione was impressed by how Members of Congress put on such a great show of friendship; it had her thinking twice about boy bands like One Direction and show casts like Gossip Girl. Were they actually all friends, or were they just good at pretending?

“I’m well, James. Glad to be here to introduce this bill with you,” Rep. Malfoy replied, always on message. Hermione didn’t allow herself to feel impressed. She didn’t.

“Hi there, Theo Nott,” the lanky, attractive 20-something that came down the steps with Rep. Malfoy greeted, holding out a hand to shake.

“Hello, Hermione Granger with Congressman Potter,” she smiled back, looking down at her camera to ensure both men were in focus. Why Tonks couldn’t take photos, which was her job, Hermione didn’t know. But here she was, and deep down, she was grateful for the chance to watch Rep. Malfoy in action. Rep. Potter too, of course.

“Bless,” the man replied with a breath as he heard who she was with. “Our comms staffer is out sick and our interns are useless, can you send me some photos? Here’s my card.”

“Of course,” Hermione replied, stuffing the card into a small pocket on the side of her bag. Great, now she’d need to focus on both members. And the boy hadn’t even said please; figured.

Hermione stepped away from the other staffer, beginning to snap photos. There was a method to her madness, though to outsiders she problem looked like she was just hopping anywhere and everywhere to get photos. But having pictures at different angles, high, low, with the Capitol in the background, standing behind the multitude of cameras with a focus on the two speakers… it gave them material to use for press today and far into the future. 

As Tonks had told her, there were never enough candid photos of the congressman to share on social media with random posts and in newsletters, so Hermione did her best to build their gallery up.

After Rep. Potter spoke, he introduced Rep. Malfoy and the blond stepped up to the podium.

Hermione continued to snap photos, wanting to impress the man with her mediocre talent. She assumed he’d been yelling at Theo because no one would be there to take photos. Maybe she could save the day.

She was no comms staffer, but she knew enough to know that a tree falling in the forest didn’t matter if no one was there to hear the sound or see it. So a press conference with no video or photos? Especially on a bipartisan bill as important as this one? She’d be pissed too if she were him.

By the time they’d wrapped up, she had incredible photos of the man, both with her boss and without him. She’d also taken it upon herself to grab two boomerangs, knowing the man had an Instagram following of over 3 million, the most of any Member of Congress. She may have been one of the masses who waited to see what he’d post next.

“Get some good ones, I hope?” Theo asked with a lazy smirk.

“I did, I’ll edit and send them over shortly,” Hermione smiled, already thinking through which Lightroom presets she was going to use on the photos.

“Thank you, lifesaver!” Theo replied, walking over to shepherd his boss away from members of the press and back up the Capitol steps.

Hermione’s stomach sunk as the door closed on any potential interactions; he hadn’t even noticed her. 

She berated herself for even the thought of something occuring, taking the time to walk outside in the slightly chilly weather back to Rayburn rather than allowing herself the comfort of taking the tunnels back to the office. 

Frank, Tonks and Rep. Potter had walked off together, not even asking her if she wanted to walk with them. She wasn’t shocked by that, though; she was new. They’d been together a while, and what would she add to their conversation? Nothing.

Which was what was so frustrating about the business of Draco Malfoy; she was logical, pragmatic, albeit a bit emotional. So why couldn’t she get it through her head that Draco Malfoy was a politician that was born and raised by politicians. 

His job was to make people feel comfortable and wanted and special in his sight before moving onto the next meeting, the next donor, and forgetting the conversation he’d had with her or whoever else. It wasn’t that hard to understand, but it was certainly hard for her to swallow.

Hermione let Zacharias know that she’d depend on him answering phones before getting into editing mode, uploading the 123 photos she took and whittling them down quickly.

She prioritized photos for Tonks, stomach fluttering when the woman came around to give her a high-five for the composition and editing of the initial seven images she sent over. Praise felt good.

By the time she’d sent photos and boomerangs to Theo, all of the House cafeterias outside of &Pizza and Subway were closed. She’d been so focused on her book the night before that she hadn’t even put together lunch, something that was completely unlike her. 

She didn’t have money to spend on a $13 lunch or the time to walk outside of the Capitol to grab $1.50 chips and salsa from Tortilla Coast, so she took a handful of the Fran’s Chocolates caramels that sat in a basket on her desk for office guests and prayed that they’d get her through the afternoon. 

Her colleagues often took candies throughout the day, but this was the first time that Hermione did so. As a Seattle native, she knew how good they were, but honestly, all she could think about was a bowl of pasta.

Her email pinged, and Hermione saw that it was from a Nott, Theodore replying to her photos. The perfectionist in her was fanning itself, nervous of what the man would say. He wasn’t a comms staffer after all, how bad could her photos look to him?

HERMIONE! GRANGER! THESE ARE INCREDIBLE. Hope no one FOIAs this, but… better than Gemma’s pics, tbh. Just sent them to DM, I know he’ll love them. We don’t give pic cred for non-media photos on social, but know in your heart that we are grateful. Thank you!

ABP on me when we’re out of session next?

Thanks again,

Theo

Theodore Nott  
Legislative Assistant  
Office of Congressman Draco Malfoy (NC-10)  
O: 202-555-5500 | C: 202-555-9919

She let out a snort at the man’s flex offering to take her to Au Bon Pain instead of Dunkin Donuts. ABP was the higher end coffee shop in the House side of the Capitol, boasting $4-5 dollar cups of coffee instead of the $2 trash at Dunkin Donuts. Another rich Republican, that didn’t shock her. His last name sounded familiar, too, and she would look it up once she was off her work computer that night.

It took her a few more minutes than she should’ve spent working up a reply, not wanting to sound overly eager or desperate for approval. She, at the end of the day, was a representation of her boss, and always wanted to do him well. That’s all this was.

Hello Theo,

Thanks for the kind words; I’m glad you liked the photos. Would love to get coffee sometime soon. Have a good day!

Best,

Hermione

Hermione Granger  
Staff Assistant  
Office of Congressman James Potter (WA-07)  
O: 202-555-1473

“Oh, Hermione!” Rep. Potter called a while later, peeking his head out of his office. She jumped at the sound, not realizing he was back from votes. Good; she could finally leave and stop filling tour requests for a few hours. 

It was early, only 6:30pm, but she was already feeling light headed from lack of food.

“Yessir?” she replied, turning to stand automatically.

“Malfoy came up to me on the floor waxing poetic about some photos you sent his staff from today’s presser. Good girl, brilliant work!” he looked proud of her in a paternal way that had her stomach fluttering. Or was that because Rep. Malfoy had sought out her boss to compliment her?

“Of course, sir. Always happy to help,” she said dutifully.

“Why don’t you blow one of them up and bring it over to his office? He mentioned it’s his first bipartisan bill since joining the committee. Could be nice, right Rem?”

“Very thoughtful,” Remus agreed, clearly sat inside of James’ office. “You can bring it over tonight then go home, Hermione.”

“Let me write up a quick note while you print it off.”

Hermione nodded, printing a glossy 8x10 of Rep. Malfoy speaking while Rep. Potter smiled at him from behind the podium, the Capitol beautiful and gleaming white behind them. Picture perfect.

She used her discretion to take one of the nicer wood frames they had rather than the cheapy black ones that they used when giving photos with the congressman to visiting tourists.

“You’re fast!” the glasses-wearing man crowed, bringing out a short note on a cream colored card he used for his stationary. The thick cardstock had his name at the top along with the Congressional seal and gold foiling. “No need for an envelope, just bring it over.”

Hermione hoped that someone would still be in the office, knowing that a lot of members sent their staff home right at 6pm even when votes were still occurring.

The main door to the man’s office was locked when she tried to jiggle it, but she saw a light under the doorway and knocked anyways. It was worth a try.

The sound of someone unlocking the door sounded before it opened a second later.

“Early tonight, Pettigrew?” the unforgettable voice of Draco called out happily. “Oh… I’m sorry, I thought you were Peter from the night cleaning crew. Come in, Hermione.”

The girl walked in, noticing that the office was dead quiet. No one else was there. Faintly, she was glad she brought her bag so she could return his book.

“Of course, sir,” she replied, the click of the heavy door shutting causing a heavy mix of adrenaline and anxiety to sit in her stomach.

“Call me Draco,” he replied.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she laughed nervously.

“I insist,” he replied, guiding her into his office and perching himself on the corner of his desk. He was wearing well-tailored black pants, a dark gray button down tucked into them. His trim waist was cinched with what was clearly an expensive leather belt. Her throat felt dry; he wasn’t wearing a jacket, only a button down shirt that had its sleeves rolled up haphazardly. He was hot. So so hot. Hot in a way that she wasn’t prepared for, not when her education taught her that public officials were old and ugly and boring. Draco Malfoy was none of the above.

“Okay… Draco” she replied, testing the name on her lips and in her mind for the first time. It felt like a step too far… but she liked it.

“Good girl,” he replied, the phrase sounding far more sexual than it did coming from her own boss’ mouth only a few minutes ago. She wanted him to praise her again. “What brings you here?”

“I have a gift for you, from Congressman Potter,” she replied, rifling through her bag and carefully removing the note and frame.

“Ah,” Draco replied with a small smile on his lips. “No signature from the artist?”

Hermione let out a giggle. A giggle? Who was she? “No sir.”

“Thank James for me, this is quite thoughtful. We’ll hang it up in here, Lord knows I could use some more personal flavor.”

The man’s office was patriotic, colored in hues of red and blue, but with personal photos scattered throughout. 

Him with his father.

Him with his grandfather who’d held the House and Senate seat that he and Lucius Malfoy currently were elected to.

A tiny Draco with Ronald Reagan. Puke. 

Him with the Pope. 

He had power and was born into power; that alone had Hermione feeling like nothing in his presence.

“Are you Catholic?” Hermione asked as she gazed around the office for the first time, unable to help herself.

“I’m not,” he replied with a smirk, eyes popping down to her cross in the same way they had yesterday. “Good old Southern Baptist boy, but I was honored to meet the Pope regardless. Are you?”

“Not anymore,” she replied with a small smile of her own. “I discovered during college that Catholicism wasn’t really for me when I didn’t have my parents holding my feet to the fire. I found a church out here last summer while interning and became a member a few weeks ago, actually.”

Draco’s eyes lit up at that, a mix between excitement and hunger, two things that a naive Hermione could not place. All she saw was a brightness that wasn’t there before.

“Look at you, stepping out in faith. Must be tough to do,” Draco replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione shrugged, “Faith is personal, I don’t think God would want me suffering for the sake of my parents and not for Him.”

Draco nodded slowly, calculatingly. “Quite right. I also meant for a Democrat, but same goes. You’re a pleasant surprise, Miss Hermione.”

She stiffened at that, unsure of when things had turned into… this. She felt like a newborn mouse caught by a much larger, smarter tomcat.

“Thank you for stopping in,” Draco replied. “Apologies that it’s just me, I try to get my staff out of here by six when I don’t have evening events.”

“My pleasure,” Hermione replied. “Oh! I have your book.”

“You finished it? In one night?” he asked, raising a brow.

“I… read fast. Eidetic memory,” she shrugged, removing the canvas-covered book from her bag.

“A woman who’s careful with books,” Draco murmured as though he couldn’t help himself, watching intensely as she unwrapped it.

Hermione blushed at that, handing the book back and looking down to ensure she wasn’t making up the way that his hand gently rested over her own. She didn’t; there were long, pale fingers on top of her own much shorter ones, careful and tentative, but there. Without a wedding ring.

“Did you enjoy it?” Draco asked in a normal tone, looking unperturbed at the way Hermione removed her hand.

“It was enriching, but frustrating. He was writing to me, a white person. He wasn’t writing to anyone who has real reasons to be offended by people like Cormac McLaggen or pro-Israel organizations. There’s a difference between my outrage and that of someone’s lived experience.”

“What about Cormac McLaggen’s lived experience, though? Doesn’t that deserve to be valued?”

Hermione snorted despite herself, “Cormac McLaggen is a trust fund child whose parents work for Fox News and essentially bought his platform. Why should he be able to profit off of denigrating others? Saying that homosexuality is a mental illness and that civilian casualties in the Middle East don’t matter… that’s directly speaking against the personhood of others, he deserves to be protested and shutdown. That’s not being a liberal snowflake, that’s standing up for the inherent value of others.”

Draco looked far too amused, and Hermione’s heart stopped for a moment as she realized she was arguing with a Republican Congressman about the merits of one of the right’s most prolific young online presences.

“What about when it comes from the left? Do you think that Christianity should be removed from public spheres of influence because the Bible hurts people’s feelings?”

“Of course not,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “Do I think that both the left and the right are prone to outrage over topics that don’t warrant it? Sure. Do I believe that McLaggen is a jerk? Sure. Do I believe that cancel culture in my party is rampant and without checks sometimes? Sure. Do I believe that most non-Christian liberals haven’t read the Bible? Absolutely. But I’m also white and educated, my opinion certainly doesn’t matter as much as the people who Haidt’s examples directly impact.”

“So what? We go around in a circle and argue until the end of time?”

“Sure, some are keen to do just that. I’m here to make a difference as best I can, and you can call me an idealist, but I think that when we work together across the aisle we can enact real change. A bill isn’t going to pass the Senate without Republican input when they rule the chamber. We can’t just sit in our corners and expect people’s lives to magically improve. No one will make good on their campaign promises if we don’t work together, and honestly… what good is the government if we just pout and refuse to play ball? If I’m being honest, sir, knowing that elected officials are refusing to sit at the table due to the possibility of knocking heads is simply a disservice to the American taxpayer.”

She looked up with bright red cheeks, knowing that she’d gone on a tangent as she was prone to do. Only this time, it was in front of People Magazine’s Hottest American Bachelor five years in the running and the only person to appear two years in a row on The Hill’s annual 50 Most Beautiful list. Draco Malfoy, the son of the Senate Majority Leader and heir-apparent to his father’s seat. The richest member of the House of Representatives. Draco. Malfoy.

She expected him to laugh in her face; she certainly wasn’t the first silly, idealistic girl to cross his path.

“Your honesty is refreshing,” Draco nodded, eyes far too appraising. Like he could see right through her. He probably could. “No one speaks to me like that anymore.”

“It’s a bad habit that’s been mentioned in every teacher and professorial evaluation I’ve ever received,” Hermione blushed, shuffling from side to side on her bargain bin heels. Could he tell how cheap her clothes were? Did he care?

“I need some more of that in my life.”

Hermione looked up, unsure what to make of his words.

He looked just as uncertain for a moment. “Thank you again for stopping by and taking such good care of my book.”

“Of course, sir,” Hermione replied, knowing professionalism was what the moment warranted. This was only the third time they’d spoken, and it was already dangerous.

She made to walk out of the office, and unlike yesterday, she did her best to inject a subtle sexiness into her walk. Not that she knew what sexy was, but she tried.

“Oh, and Hermione?” he called, already sitting behind his desk with a blue felt tip pen in his hand as though their conversation was a normal occurrence.

“Sir?” 

“The photos… they are excellent. It was hard not to watch while you took them,,” Draco replied, looking down at the stack of his paper in front of him as if he were unaffected. Maybe he was. “You are captivating when you’re in your element. I’m glad I had the chance to watch.”

Hermione didn’t have a reply, so she nodded, which he didn’t see, and walked out. She’d only realized that she didn’t bring her flats with her when she was already halfway down the Metro escalator, and resigned herself to blisters that would surely form on the five block walk to her apartment from the Gallery Place Metro stop. 

As she sat on the train, a large man breathing heavily as he headbanged in the seat next to her, she realized that she was facing a quandary that she’d never experienced before.

There were no guidebooks for how to navigate what seems to be a mutual sexual attraction to a Member of Congress. She’d have to figure this one out on her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me going; let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: writes 10k in less than 12 hours for this fic.
> 
> ENJOY. Let me know your thoughts; all of your comments egged me on to write this super quickly!!!!
> 
> Feel free to message me on tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com if you have questions or want to discuss :)

Life went on.

Hermione answered phone calls and sorted out which callers were just angry and which ones actually wanted to kill her boss. She patched those ones through to the Capitol Police.

She took photos at events for Tonks who was paid nearly $100k for… what, exactly?

Draco was at none of them.

She shared elevators with Republican Members of Congress who only softened when they saw her cross hanging on her chest, before looking as if they’d swallowed a lemon when they asked who she worked for and found out she was a Democrat. As if their mind couldn’t comprehend a Jesus loving liberal.

Draco would’ve understood.

It was in June, three months after she last spoke with Draco, that she saw him again.

Pansy Parkinson, a terrifying and awe-inspiring girl that Hermione met as an intern was finally back in DC after graduating from Harvard in May.

She was as pretty as ever, and, to Hermione’s continued surprise, still wanted to be her friend. Not that Hermione understood, but she went along with it. She’d always wanted girls like Pansy to notice her.

“Remind me why you’re working again?” Hermione asked.

“You can’t find a husband while you’re at home,” she replied with an eyeroll.

“Is there like… a Republican version of the Kennedys?” Hermione asked.

“Obviously,” Pansy replied with an eyeroll. Nodding at the waiter as he poured the pitcher of frozen margaritas into their glasses. “The Notts, the Flints, the Riddles if you’re into murder mysteries, the Zabinis…”

“I get it,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of the bright pink strawberry margarita. It tasted like it came from a bagged mix, which it definitely did; it also tasted cheap enough that it shouldn’t cost $36 for a pitcher, which… it did. “Did you say Nott?”

“Of course,” Pansy nodded. “Thaddeus Nott was a Member of Congress from Louisiana, he’s now on Owl’s board of directors. Rich as hell, and he has a hot son and a bunch of decent-looking nephews.”

Owl had revolutionized delivery in America, with two-day delivery for Hoot members. Hermione couldn’t remember life before Owl, and couldn’t even imagine how rich the Notts were if the man was at the top of their pecking order.

“Theodore?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow as though she were thinking much harder to remember his name. She couldn’t forget it, no. They’d never gone to get coffee over Easter recess, but Hermione wasn’t going to be desperate and reach out. She knew that most offers of coffee were just that… gestures.

“That’s the hot son. Do you know him?”

“I do,” she nodded, feeling uncomfortable, but smug. She knew the guy was too rich to be working. “He works for another Member, I met him a few months ago.”

Pansy looked at Hermione with calculating eyes. “Think you could introduce me?”

Hermione shrugged, not wanting to throw her weight around making promises when she barely knew him.

“I could,” she said. “What do I even tell him you’re doing here…”

“Looking for a job, duh. Rich guys get off on that shit, helping seemingly helpless women out. It’s all about power and feeling useful for them.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, unwilling to say how close to home that hit. Was that all Draco wanted? To make her feel… good? More confident?

They left Tortilla Coast, the mecca of cheap post-work happy hours for Hill staff, around 7:30pm, giggling as they headed up the block back towards the House office buildings.

“No Metro! That’s disgusting,” Pansy said, scrunching her cute features up in clear disgust.

“I can’t afford an Uber, Pansy!” she replied quietly, aware of all of the people passing them that were literally just leaving the office and heading towards the Metro after a busy day of votes in the House. 

One of the many interesting features about life as a congressional staffer was the National Republican Club of Capitol Hill, also known as the Capitol Hill Club. It was directly across from the Capitol South Metro Station, which was where Hermione got off every day to walk to work. 

Republican House Members had meetings there often, and it was also a place where many of them went to dinner after a day’s work. It was club GOP, and Hermione often wondered how much time Draco spent there. Not that she kept an eye out for him every morning and night. Not that she’d ever seen him walking there, either.

The Dem Club was in a far less convenient location at over three blocks from the Capitol complex, but it wasn’t like she was ever invited there anyways.

They walked up past the Metro stop, with Pansy insistently tugging in a motion that let Hermione know she wouldn’t be hopping on a train home.

She was also aware that she could run into her boss or coworkers at any moment; nowhere was safe.

“Girl, I’ve got it,” Pansy replied, much gentler than she normally was at Hermione’s honesty.

“You already paid for drinks and dinner, I can’t,” Hermione replied, feeling uncomfortable with the thought.

“That was like… cheaper than Mcdonald’s! My father would be offended at your insinuation that we can’t give our dates dinner, drinks and a ride home!”

Hermione let out a loud laugh at that, leaning towards Pansy. She hadn’t realized that they’d linked arms at some point, but they ran across the road without looking to get to the cab line outside of Capitol Hill Club on the opposite side of the street.

“Watch out!” a loud, male voice called loudly, and Pansy let out a yelp as a taxi making a left almost hit them on their jay-walking adventure.

“You ladies okay?” the same voice called once they were across the street.

Hermione looked up to see Theo and none other than his boss staring at them intently, still fully dressed in their suits. Looking extremely fit, but extremely sober. What did she look like to them?

“Oh, hi Theo!” Hermione replied, smiling widely. Alcohol was a hell of an influence, but she could hardly stop herself. She hadn’t seen Draco in far too long.

“Pretty cavalier for almost getting hit by a taxi, ladies,” Draco replied, a small smirk on his face.

“We live life on the edge,” Pansy replied, drawing a snort from Theo that seemed to take him by surprise.

“Theodore Nott,” the younger man said, staring at Hermione’s very pretty, rail thin friend.

“Pansy Parkinson,” the girl replied with a small smile that only grew when she saw recognition in his eyes at her last name.

“Would you two join me for a drink?” Theo asked, nodding at the unassuming building they were outside. The Capitol Hill Club. 

The spacious sidewalk was empty besides the doorman and two USCP officers who were exiting the building with soft drinks in hand, clearly taking advantage of the cops drink for free policy. Republicans, man.

“I’d love to,” Pansy replied.

“Mr. M, are you heading out?” Theo asked, turning his professional lights back on when he remembered his boss was still there. Hermione noted that he didn’t call him Draco.

“No,” Draco replied slowly. “I’d love a drink.”

“Lovely,” Pansy replied, grabbing Hermione’s hand to show that she didn’t have a choice. The girl clearly assumed Hermione would say no; which was smart. 

If anyone other than Draco Malfoy asked her for a drink, she would have. 

The quartet headed up into the busy lounge area, taking a table at the far corner of the room.

“What do you think?” Draco asked, clearly amused at the way she observed the space and took note of who was there.

“It’s a bit twee,” Hermione replied honestly, drawing a loud, attention-grabbing laugh from Draco as he pulled a chair back and gestured for her to sit as though she knew how to do so. Did she push herself in? Did he?

Thankfully Draco pushed her chair in before sitting down next to her and didn’t say anything.

“It’s for the tourists and the old guard,” the man said quietly. “They like the feel of a gentlemen’s club.”

“Isn’t that what the GOP is trying to get away from? The idea that it’s a gentlemen’s club?”

“I’m working on it,” Draco replied with a wink.

While the overweight, middle-aged male waiter came over to take their orders, fawning over Draco with more familiarity than anyone had the right to, Hermione took notice of the eyes keenly focused on their table. Young women and old women alike were checking him out, even some men. It didn’t surprise her... honestly. 

While Pansy was fishing for a little fish, these women were going for a figurative whale. A Malfoy.

“Paul is bringing water,” Draco murmured.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she replied, blushing as she realized she’d zoned out while he placed their order.

“Lost you for a moment,” he observed.

“I was just taking it all in.”

“You’re drunk,” he replied.

Hermione sat up, realizing how stupid she was being.

“I didn’t mean to,” she shrugged. Really? That’s what she said?

For whatever reason, Draco smirked. 

“Face as cute as yours… you’re trouble, my girl.”

“Yours?” Hermione blurted out, “Oh, goodness… I need to shut up.”

“I’m enjoying this uninhibited Hermione, especially after you’ve evaded me for so long,” Draco shrugged. “A cherry on top of my shit day.”

“Why was it bad?” she replied before blushing. “If you want to share. And I didn’t evade you! You could’ve come to me.”

“Not gonna run and tell your boss the secrets of the other side?” Draco asked, eyebrows waggling. Hermione noted in her hazy mind that he ignored her accusation that he’d been avoiding her.

“Never,” Hermione replied, holding a pinky out without second thought. “Pinky promise.”

“Scratch that,” Draco replied as he locked pinkies with her. “Not just a cute face… you’re adorable, Hermione. Too dangerous for a man like me. How’d your daddy ever punish a girl as sweet as you?”

Hermione shook her head, blushing further and feeling her stomach curl at the soft praise and warning that she decided to ignore. What were expensive, shitty margaritas for if not to ignore her innate survival instincts?

“Tell me what happened today.”

“Water first,” Draco replied commandingly, pushing the glass closer to her now that it was on their table.

She pouted when she saw that Theo, Pansy and Draco all had different types of alcohol in their glasses. Theo and Pansy who were already making eyes at each other from across the table.

“Drink,” Draco repeated, watching appraisingly as Hermione gulped down ice water. “Good girl.”

Hermione couldn’t help but shiver at that, her tights-covered knees moving to touch Draco’s leg with the movement.

Draco let out a dramatic sigh, “Let’s see… My day started off with a partner workout at Orangetheory, which Reddit didn’t deem fit to warn me about,” Hermione stopped him with a giggle.

“What’s that even mean? Break down the rich person speak for me, please.”

“The Australian and Japanese Orangetheory-goers normally post workouts on the subreddit ahead of time, so I know when to cancel if the template’s something I don’t want to participate in,” Draco smirked. “But no one posted last night, and it figures that I had to do a partner workout with a guy who wanted to exchange high-fives everytime we switched off between the treadmill and rower.”

Hermione scrunched her nose, “Touching a random sweaty guy doesn’t sound fun.”

“No, it was not,” Draco replied. “I was in the office by nine as usual, but turns out someone bunged up my schedule and didn’t inform me that staff would be taking a meeting I specifically asked not to sit on in my office.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, I walked in the private door to my office so that I didn’t run into anyone in the main space, but it hardly mattered when my Leg Director already had a meeting going on there. Thankfully, Adrian’s a smart guy and took the meeting out into the hallway. I did have an extremely important call at 9:15, after all.”

Hermione giggled, “Is a prerequisite to public service becoming a proficient liar?”

Draco nodded solemnly, taking a sip of his dark-colored liquor. “When you deal with ladder climbing sycophants all day who would be more than happy to suck up an hour of your precious time with tales of their children and very boring business that I absolutely must visit, lying is a necessary skill. Anyways… turns out my whole day’s schedule was messed up.”

“Was it Marietta?” Hermione asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You know her?”

Hermione shrugged, trying to grasp onto the last vestiges of professionalism in the face of this man who made her feel so very at home.

“I met her when I came to your office. She wasn’t very nice.”

Draco smiled softly at her. Fondly. Possessively. It was an expression she’d need to unpack later, if she remembered it in the morning.

“No, she’s not, but isn’t that what schedulers are for? They’re gatekeepers… I need someone strong willed and headstrong. People get upset when a Malfoy tells them no,” Draco replied, trying to look unaffected.

Hermione had an idea. She also had drunken courage.

“Hire Pansy,” she replied.

“That Pansy?” Draco asked, eyes flicking towards the girl who was in a seemingly intense conversation with Theo.

“Yes! She just graduated and she’s looking for a job. She knows all of the same uppercrust people that you do… and she’s a bit mean. Surly, we’ll say.”

“And what? I’ll just fire Marietta?” Draco asked, grinning.

Hermione pouted playfully, “She was mean to me…”

“Can’t have that,” Draco murmured, eyes stuck on Hermione’s protruding lower lip.

Pansy caught the entire interaction with interest, and was grateful for the sake of both her friend and the Member of Congress that the only people who could see their clear flirting were her and Theo.

“This is a no from me,” Pansy said quietly, looking at Hermione and Draco bleeding Malfoy. “Is this a regular occurence?” 

“Hermione? Never seen them interact. Other women? Could’ve told me Mr. M was asexual with how clean his paws are,” Theo replied. “He’s a good man.”

Pansy nodded. That was answer enough for her.

“We’ll be leaving,” Pansy replied with a soft smile. Theo Nott was the sort of dumb puppy with sharp teeth that she found herself so fond of. But tonight, she had a friend’s future to save.

“Can I have your number?” Theo replied, placing a large hand on Pansy’s forearm gently as she made to stand up.

“Of course,” she replied with an easy smile, typing it into his phone. “Text me.”

“On it, boss,” Theo winked. Pansy’s phone vibrated a second later.

“Hermione, we should get going,” Pansy cut in from across the small table.

Pansy wanted to groan at the earnestly dejected look on Hermione’s face. This town was going to eat the girl up and spit her out.

“Thanks for joining us, ma’am.” Draco smiled at Pansy, who only narrowed her eyes at him. She knew his type.

“Of course, Congressman,” Pansy smiled. “Tell your father that Poseidon Parkinson says hello; they went fishing together in St. Barts over Christmas.”

“I will,” Draco replied taking the name drop as the threat it was before grabbing his wallet and throwing a wad of bills down on the table. “Let me get you ladies into a cab.”

Hermione went to reject the chivalrous gesture automatically, but Pansy stepped in once she saw the other girl’s feminist instincts rear up. Her plebian friend had a lot of work ahead of her if she ever wanted to fit in with this crowd.

“We’d appreciate it,” Pansy replied, accepting Theo’s hand up from the table, but letting it go as soon as she was standing. 

The quartet walked out, and Pansy was impressed by the way that the Congressman smiled to everyone who said hi, but did not stop for extended conversations. She respected a man who kept his promises.

“Are you going to the same place?” Draco asked as he held the door open for the group.

“Yes,” Pansy replied.

Theo looked at his boss before speaking, “Pansy, text me when you’re back safely so we know you made it.”

She was no idiot and noticed the relieved look on Draco’s face at hearing Theo would check in on them. Clearly, he still had some reservations about making moves on a young woman. Good. She could work with that.

“Of course,” she smiled. Theo simply squeezed her hand as a goodbye before opening the door to a cab parked in front of the Capitol Hill Club. “Hermione, get in.”

“Goodnight!” Hermione smiled happily, climbing into the cab and scooting over.

“This should cover your ride and breakfast,” Draco murmured, handing Pansy five $20s. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not enough?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Aren’t elected officials supposed to know how real people live? Like… shouldn’t you know the average cost of milk in your district?”

“A gallon of skim milk is $2.59. A dozen eggs is $2.21,” Draco replied automatically, winking at Pansy. “Goodnight, Miss Parkinson.”

“Night,” she replied with another eyeroll, moving her legs so he could shut the door. The fucker was good.

“Drive these girls like they were your own,” Draco warned the cab driver before thwacking the door shut.

“Yessir!” the man in front replied enthusiastically, nodding as he drove off.

“My sweet, innocent darling, come to Pansy,” Pansy murmured, running a hand over Hermione’s curls.

“Mmm, I’m so tired,” Hermione replied with a yawn.

“Is your awful roommate home?” Pansy asked, receiving a shrugging groan in return that solidified things. She’d never met Lavender, but the way Hermione, sweet Hermione, texted about her… she knew the girl deserved better. “What if you move in with me?”

“I can’t afford that, Pansy,” Hermione replied.

“I live alone in a fully renovated row home two blocks from the Capitol,” Pansy replied with an eyeroll, not that anyone could see it in the dark of the cab. “We’re moving your shit out this weekend and you’ll pay me $15 a month and provide me your company whenever I want it.”

“I can’t break my lease!” Hermione yelped.

“I know a guy,” Pansy shrugged.

“Rich people are wild,” Hermione noted through a yawn.

“Honey… you have no idea,” Pansy replied, thinking of just what was to come if her friend continued down the path she was clearly hurtling down.

xxxxxxxxx

The sound of Hermione’s alarm, Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” playing softly. She spent most of college experimenting with different alarm sounds, and at the end of the day, the calming, familiar sound of the song took her out of her sleep the easiest.

Only this morning, there was no excitement for another day. Her head hurt. Her mouth was unusually dry. She groaned. What the hell?

“Rise and shine, buttercup,” a voice called raspily.

“Pansy… what? Oh no. No no no no.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, it was probably worse than you remember,” Pansy yawned, rolling over in Hermione’s small bed to snuggle against her back. “Only, this is DC and not New York or LA, so nothing that happened will end up anywhere in the news.”

“I don’t care about the news, Pansy! I am a tramp.”

Pansy laughed loudly, “You’re not a tramp. You were drunk, he’s hot. It’s fine… you’re hardly the ugliest or most desperate person to come onto him and anyways… he was clearly into it.”

“You- what?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice, turning over to ask Pansy, uncaring of her awful morning breath. “He was what?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, still unfairly pretty and dollike despite removing her makeup.

“He was picking up what you were putting down. How do you even know him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Hermione replied, covering her face with her squishy reindeer pillow that she kept on her bed year round.

“Is there something to tell, sis?” Pansy asked, voice softer than Hermione had heard. She hated it, honestly. Pansy wasn’t supposed to be soft, that was too far out of the confines of their relationship.

Hermione shrugged. “I’m the smart, bookish one… this is a bit outside of my areas of expertise.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Pansy replied. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Everything.”

So Hermione got ready for work and told her. Lavender, thankfully, was gone for the night doing whatever she did on Tuesday nights.

“You’re going to just go about your life like everything’s normal and you’ve never met Draco Malfoy,” Pansy said after a moment of what looked to be deep thought. 

“I just need you to trust me, Hermione… the moment things turn sour, he will blame you. Even if that means ruining your career, it will mean nothing to him if it salvages his own reputation. So you’re going to live your life like a good little staff assistant and wait for him to come to you. If he does, he’s an idiot, honestly, but it means he’s truly interested. A Malfoy wouldn’t go after something so politically damaging if he wasn’t.”

“So you’re saying I can’t go apologize for the way I acted last night?” Hermione asked as she brushed on mascara, cheeks blushing as she remembered the way she pouted like some… silly girl flirting with their much older boyfriend.

“Absolutely not,” Pansy replied, ice in her tone. “I’m serious. You don’t talk to him. You wait for him to talk to you and then we assess next steps. And you don’t need to apologize for being tipsy; it’s not like you went down on him in a crowded room.”

Hermione threw her brush at Pansy, drawing a squal from the girl.

“And… if he doesn’t talk to me?” Hermione asked quietly, lips quirking to the side in distaste.

“Then you’re all the better for it. Seriously. Find yourself another rich republican if you must, but one who’s not twice your age and a member of a family who’d literally murder you if you caused their last name any harm.

Hermione let out a laugh, “He wouldn’t kill me.”

“He might not, but his dad and grandfather would,” Pansy replied, no hint of laughter in her voice.

xxxxxxxxx

“I never want to move again,” Pansy groaned, laying her head down on Hermione’s lap.

“Same,” Hermione sighed. “I moved in with only the fronk desk guy to help, but somehow this seemed much worse, even with people whose job it is to move.”

“It was the elevators,” Pansy replied. “Remind me to never live in an apartment again.”

“Seems like you’re set,” Hermione laughed. “Do you even pay rent here?”

Pansy snorted, “No. My great grandfather bought this back in the 1930s. Imagine being rich during the Great Depression, you could buy whatever you want.”

“Lucky him.”

Pansy reached a lazy hand up to pat Hermione’s hair. “Lucky him indeed.”

Hermione’s phone pinged, and she groaned.

“Who is it?” Pansy asked.

“Harry again,” she murmured.

“Ew,” Pansy replied. “Is he finally done going to house parties in Columbia Heights and making time for you?”

“Yeah, he wants to get dinner tomorrow.”

Her boss’ son was a friend, but also someone she knew saw her in a very transactional light. She’s first met Harry, a fellow freshman, on the University of Washington’s campus. He was making very loud, frustrated noises as he scanned the shelves in her preferred section of the library. So loudly that she stopped to ask if he needed help; he did.

And things went on from there, honestly. Harry was fun, if a bit rambunctious and uncommitted to anything that wasn’t weed and sex.

He was offended when Hermione hadn’t mentioned that she’d applied for an internship in his dad’s office, but she wasn’t going to use him like that. She knew what it was like to be used, and was honestly nervous that the phrase “Harry’s friend” would be more of a mark against her than anything else.

But her ruse was destroyed two weeks into her internship when Harry walked in with his mother, pulling Hermione out of her seat and hugging her. She’d tried to keep it private.

Thankfully, though, Rep. Potter and Mrs. Potter knew who their son was, and were grateful that he had a headstrong, intelligent, studious friend like Hermione. Their words. Not that that meant much at the end of the day.

So now he was in DC fulltime, attending Georgetown Law come fall. Hermione didn’t really know what he’d do with his degree, but that wasn’t her problem.

“Have fun with him,” Pansy replied, sounding like she wanted Hermione to do anything but.

Much to Hermione’s dismay, Harry and Pansy had slept together after a birthday party for one of their fellow Hill interns on a weekend when Harry was visiting DC.

Pansy and Hermione had been put in a group with four other very weird, standoffish people during their first week as interns during their mandatory Capitol tour training. Pansy had been an intern for Senate Majority Whip Tom Riddle who was a friend of her father’s. The man was gorgeous, yet terrifying, and Hermione was certain he had many skeletons in his closet. He definitely seemed like a lowkey mass murderer.

It was easy to tell Pansy was a republican at first glance, from her perfectly straight hair that looked like it hadn’t seen the day’s 90 degree heat and her sky blue Ted Baker dress that was tied together with a perfectly loopy bow. The girl’s intern badge was nowhere to be found, despite being told they needed to wear them; Hermione had asked, of course, and Pansy smiled back and said the orange badge clashed with her outfit. Despite it all, they were fast friends.

So Pansy slept with Harry, and Harry couldn’t get enough of her after this encounter, much to the girl’s dismay. 

Hermione had been carefully skirting the fact that she was now living with Pansy, unsure of whether or not Harry’s crush had dissipated a year later. But now that he was officially in DC ahead of the fall semester at Georgetown Law, she knew it was only a matter of time before he asked about her living arrangement.

“You know what freaks me out every time I think about it?” Hermione asked, not waiting for a reply. “That Harry was so repulsive to you that you wouldn’t even consider being in a loveless marriage with him. Don’t you know how rich he is? What did he do to you?”

Pansy let out a bark of laughter, “You don’t even want to know, Hermione.”

Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes as she placed a consoling pat on Pansy’s head. She really didn’t.

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione felt the first two weeks she lived with Pansy feeling guilty over not paying rent, but that dissipated quickly when she realized it meant she could purchase $6 frappuccinos from Starbucks without guilt.

She’d just plucked up her mobile order on the walk to work and was heading back to the street when a hand rested on her shoulder.

“Hermione,” Draco smiled, looking pleasantly surprised to see her.

“Congressman,” she replied. It’d been three weeks since the incident at the Capitol Hill Club, and her hackles were fully raised once again. Why did he appear out of nowhere? Was DC truly that small?

“Wait for me,” he directed, turning to charm the baristas who all let out squeals when they saw who’d walked up to the counter. Figured.

“Heading to work this early?” Draco asked when he had his iced coffee in hand.

“I am,” she replied.

“Is something the matter?” the man asked lightly.

“No,” Hermione replied, throat feeling particularly dry. She was unwilling to sip her drink, even through her metal straw and chance making herself look dumb in front of Draco.

“I sense that something is off,” Draco replied. “If you don’t want to speak with me, just say the word and it’ll be like we’ve never met. But if you’ll let me, I’d love to say my piece before you go back to ignoring me.”

Hermione turned to look up at him. He was 6’3 according to every fawning article she’d ever read about him, and she was 5’2. Her body heated up when she thought about how much taller and broader than her he was.

“Okay,” Hermione agreed, voice tentative. “That sounds reasonable.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to say on the streets of DC, but this was not it.

“Give me your phone. I’ll text you details for dinner this weekend.”

“You… what?”

“I already told you, Hermione,” he said slowly, as though he were trying to remain patient with an unruly toddler. “I’d like to say my piece, and you can expect to be thoroughly wined and dined while I do so.”

Hermioned couldn’t help but smile back when she saw the smug smirk on his handsome face. She handed her phone over to him, entranced by the way his long fingers stroked over the touchscreen.

“This is where I leave you,” Draco sighed, nodding towards the Capitol Hill Club. “Have a good day, doll. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Draco,” Hermione replied, receiving an amused, raised eyebrow in return. They were back to Draco.

“Oh, and Hermione?” he called out before taking a few long strides and ending up right back in front of her. “Is Miss Parkinson looking for a job?”

“As much as you can consider her looking for a job,” Hermione laughed.

“I have it on good word that Draco Malfoy’s scheduling position is going to open up soon… something about his current staffer being mean to sweet girls who stop by the office.”

He winked and walked away, leaving Hermione breathless.

What. The. Hell.

xxxxxxxx

“How did I not know he lived two blocks from us?” Pansy asked before whacking Hermione’s hand. “Stop moving! You’re going to fuck it up.”

“I didn’t know either,” Hermione replied through grit teeth. Why did Pansy keep talking to her if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

“Inviting you to his home for a first date, that’s so bold. You are screwed.”

“Not a date,” Hermione sighed. How many times had she told Pansy over the past four days that this wasn’t a date?

“A dinner between two consenting adults so that the sexy older congressman can share his honest feelings about the sweet and beautiful 21-year-old in the privacy of his own home that also conveniently boasts his bedroom. That’s a date.”

Bitch.

Hermione didn’t deign Pansy with a reply.

“You look hot.”

“These underwear… I don’t think they’re necessary,” Hermione replied, thinking about the lace thong that was currently riding up her nether regions.

“Oh, yes they are! Stop fidgeting, your mascara is still drying. You look hot. Dead sexy, even. Your bra is sexy, your panties are sexy, you are sexy. He won’t even be able to focus on whatever downhome lasagna’s broiling in his oven when you walk in.”

“Thanks, Pans,” Hermione smiled. She’d never been called sexy before.

She looked at herself in the mirror of Pansy’s en suite bathroom. Pansy wasn’t lying; she looked good. Natural, but enhanced, which was exactly what Hermione wanted. She didn’t want to look like a little girl, but she didn’t want to look Draco’s age either. That was part of the appeal, right? Pretty young girl. That, she could pull off.

Her dark green dress was tight across her chest, waist and butt before it flared out at her thighs. The dress’ fabric went up to her neck and had short cap sleeves, covering her modestly on top.

Pansy had always told her a woman could display her butt or boobs but not both, so Hermione was confident with the classiness of the look they’d picked up at Nordstrom out in Virginia. It’d required her faking a 5pm doctor’s appointment so that she could leave work early on a session day, something she’d never done, but it was worth it now that she looked in the mirror and saw how she looked. Pretty. 

“Let’s go,” Pansy said, grabbing her car keys. 

“It’s a four minute walk,” Hermione replied with an eye roll.

“Four minutes of walking with tripping hazards and trash everywhere. You’re not walking in those shoes,” Pansy replied.

Hermione had been amazed at the strappy nude block heels Pansy had found for sale at Macy’s, but loved the way they looked enough to buy them. After flatout refusing to pay for a mani pedi, she’d undergone the torture of Pansy painting her nails herself and complaining about her cuticles. Still, with an extra $100 in her pocket, she couldn’t complain.

“Here we are,” Pansy exclaimed as she pulled up to the cream rowhome with bright blue steps that allegedly belonged to Draco. “Ask him why he doesn’t live in Kalorama with his parents, okay?”

“Yes, Pansy, that’s top of mind.”

“Love you,” Pansy replied, patting a professionally manicured hand on Hermione’s forearm. “If I don’t hear from you by eleven I’m knocking down his door.”

“Love you too, I’ll be fine.”

Pansy, like the mother hen she was, didn’t drive off until Draco opened the door and let her inside.

“Welcome,” Draco said in a theatrical tone, guiding her into his gorgeous home.

Without shame, the girls had stalked the 4 bedroom 5 bathroom rowhouse on Redfin and Zillow, discovering that he’d bought it for the low price of $2.45 million when he was 22. Who had that sort of money at 22?

“Oh wow, this is gorgeous,” Hermione breathed, keeping the fact that it looked much better than what were clearly pre-renovation photos that she saw online.

The house was airy and light, with large windows throughout. It was a corner unit, meaning he had three walls that boasted windows rather than two, like most rowhomes.

The floors were a dark brown wood, and everything came together perfectly, like an aesthetic chef’s kiss. It was clear that Draco had worked alongside whoever decorated his home to give it a feel that just screamed… him.

“Thank you,” Draco replied, sounding genuinely pleased that she liked it and not like a man who responded in the tone of someone who’d heard the compliment a million times before. Which he definitely had.

“This is yours?”

“It is,” Draco confirmed. Hermione saw that he was in socks, which did something to her, the casualness of it all, and bent down to take off her heels as gracefully as one could. “Bought it before law school.”

“Must be nice,” Hermione smiled playfully. “I’m sure it was a steal.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Draco laughed. “Even with the renovations that were needed, it was not cheap, but it’s home.”

“More than North Carolina?”

“No,” Draco replied immediately. “North Carolina is always going to be home, but with the line of work I’m in, having a place to call mine that I can return to in DC is needed.”

“Weren’t keen to bunk with your parents?” Hermione asked with a giggle as Draco guided her into a warm, window-filled kitchen. The room was even brighter due to its white cabinets and dark gray granite countertops. Hermione looked at the state-of-the-art kitche appliances and his sleek, matte black Kitchenaid with longing in her eyes. If only.

Pansy’s kitchen was gorgeous, but the girl had no pots or pans as she didn’t cook. Hermione’s were cheap, all from TJ Maxx and Target, and she knew how much better her food would be if she had the Le Creuset cast ironware that Draco seemed to use as decorations in his kitchen.

“Absolutely not,” Draco replied. “They’re lovely, truly, but I don’t know what it’d say about me if I stayed with them. Thankfully they’re not too far, and their main home in North Carolina is in Charlotte.”

Hermione felt the weight of separation from him in that moment; what kind of person was this, talking casually about having multiple residences?

“Would you like a drink?” Draco asked. “I’m no cook, but ordered my favorite homey meal in hopes that makes up for it.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re drinking,” Hermione replied automatically. “Not a cook? With a kitchen like this?”

“Unfortunately not,” Draco replied. “My mother says it’s the one area that I failed her in, never learning to cook. Do you enjoy it?”

Hermione smiled, “I do. It’s… comforting to me, but I don’t have as much time as I’d like to spend in the kitchen.”

Or money to spend on ingredients or kitchenware, she kept to herself.

“How’d you start cooking? With your family?” Draco asked, pouring her a glass of what was clearly an expensive white after opening the bottle.

She blushed a bit, warring with herself on whether or not to tell the story. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

Draco looked up with interest as he slid the glass across the table, making himself comfortable from where he stood at the kitchen island while Hermione sat on one of the leather bar top stools.

“I’m all ears.”

“Well,” Hermione started. “I was always a good student, but my eighth grade English teacher gave me a B+ my first quarter. When my parents called a meeting with her, she told them that my creativity was lacking, and that having good grammar and grasp of material wasn’t the be all and end all in a writing class.

“She suggested taking some sort of creative classes to get me thinking outside of the box. I’d already tried dancing when I was little, and that was a catastrophe, so I was placed in a beginner’s cooking class and loved it.”

“Do you feel more creative?” Draco asked.

“That’s a good question… I’d say I am more receptive to nuance now, but I’m still more logical than creative.”

“Me as well,” Draco agreed. “I’m surprised a teacher marked you down for the way your mind works; doesn’t sound very nurturing to me. Aren’t we supposed to be nice to middle schoolers?”

Hermione let out a laugh, “I may have let it slip to the principal that she’d marked me down for not fitting in her neat little box of a successful student at one of my Girl Scout meetings.”

Draco smiled, “You got your A?”

“I got my A,” Hermione nodded, taking a sip of wine and looking up at Draco.

The man was dressed in charcoal colored trousers that were tight on his legs in a way that was bordering on indecent. His white button down was tucked into his pants as usual, but it was rolled up to his forearms. He was as casual as she’d ever seen him, and it had her curious just how many people got to see him like this. And what, exactly, did ‘this’ mean? What was Draco like in the safety of his own home, where he professed he felt most comfortable?

“I’m glad you’re here,” Draco said in the comfortable silence of the room, gripping the counter with his free hand.

Hermione nodded, fingering the stem of her wine glass. 

The doorbell rang before she could reply.

“One moment,” Draco replied. She heard him make conversation with who she assumed was the delivery person before coming back with three bags of food.

Her eyes were wide as he ripped open the paper bags and started opening up the styrofoam boxes. How much food did he order?

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a bit of everything,” he replied with a smile. As though that was normal; as though a 21-year-old girl was used to dates who cared enough about her to order more than pizza, let alone purchase the whole menu.

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“It’s called Chloe, down in Navy Yard,” Draco explained, unboxing the most roasted chicken she’d ever seen. The meat was resting on a bed of fluffy white rice with greens and three little plastic cups of something she couldn’t see. “There are flashier restaurants, but the chef is always in the kitchen and takes care of me. I could honestly eat this chicken every day for the rest of my life.”

“What’s in the cups?” Hermione asked, getting a smile in return.

“Only the best part of the meal,” Draco smiled. “It’s a chili-lime dipping sauce, I always ask for more, so it looks like they loaded us up.”

“Everything looks incredible,” Hermione sighed a moment later as she sat down at the table after Draco pulled her chair back. “Thank you, Draco.”

“Anything for you,” he replied with an earnest intensity that she didn’t know what to do with. “Take whatever you want.”

“A little of everything,” Hermione laughed, plating up a bit of the small plates and then a generous portion of the chicken. Draco had sliced it perfectly, which had her feeling he was more than a bit modest about his abilities to cook. “Oh, my goodness. This is amazing, Draco!”

“I’m pleased you like it,” he replied. The man had sat himself at the head of the 8-seat table and placed her to his left, and he was close enough that she could feel him. “DC has such a unique restaurant scene. For all the talk of New York, I have to say I’ve never had a truly bad meal here.”

“You haven’t been to Tortilla Coast then,” Hermione laughed.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Silly girl, no one escapes DC alive without having visited Tortilla Coast. My staffers are lucky enough to have a boss who takes them to Capital Grille for any office meals, though.”

“Perks of being independently wealthy, I guess,” Hermione shrugged off the man’s subtle flex of taking his entire DC team to a steakhouse for meals.

“Can’t say you’re wrong,” Draco winked. “James a Tortilla Coast guy?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, but close. We, the Pizza.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Figures. I’d rather have Domino’s than that garbage.”

Her eyes lit up, “Me too! I thought I was going to be exiled by my colleagues when I said so. At least Domino’s has a flavorful crust, I feel like I’m eating a tire when I try to bite into We, the Pizza’s crust! That’s the worst part of DC, paying for awful meals just so you’re included.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever my colleagues go out after work, I end up spending an obscene amount of money on food I didn’t eat and alcohol I didn’t drink because they want to split the tab evenly.”

“Why do you go?”

“So I’m not left out,” Hermione shrugged, feeling slightly vulnerable as she stabbed a piece of cauliflower on her fork. “I know it’s worth it in the long run, but my wallet feels differently.”

“That’s tough, sweet girl. Especially on the salary I know you receive,” Draco replied.

“It’s fine,” Hermione smiled, shrugging. She didn’t come over to complain about her life to Draco, who was someone’s boss. Someone who probably made the same salary she did.

“It’s not,” he replied. “I’m all for reducing the deficit, but when we pay the people who do the real work of our government like dirt, we all suffer.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the acknowledgement. Hopefully they’ll see how hard I work on the unofficial side throughout the election and give me a pay bump.”

“You’ll be working on Potter’s reelection?”

Hermione nodded, “I am, I’ll be his body person for the final two weeks before the election. He doesn’t really need to campaign for himself, as you know, but they’re hoping to flip the 8th district.”

Draco nodded, not replying with his thoughts. That’s a line he doesn’t want to cross, Hermione observed. She could respect that.

“What will your campaign look like?”

“Breezy. Thankfully, the Democrats didn’t even put up an opponent this year.”

“They just gave up?”

“The state party said there was a paperwork mishap, but… between you and I, I think so.”

“Congratulations, that’s incredible!” Hermione smiled, almost forgetting that she was cheering for a candidate of the opposing party who held a seat that had previously been held by Democrats for many years.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Draco replied, eyes quickly darting to Hermione’s after the endearment slipped out to gage her reaction. He sat up straighter in his seat after noticing the way the girl breathed in shakily, cheeks turning pink. “Midterm elections are far easier than presidential years, which I’m thankful for. But my father is up for reelection, so I’ll join him for some events across the state. ”

“I’m sure people love that,” Hermione smiled to herself, thinking of the thirst she’d seen on the internet for the three Malfoy men.

Draco laughed, rolling his eyes. “You have no idea. They charge $15,000 for a photo with father, grandfather and I at most of our fundraisers, and they sell out in minutes.”

“That’s worse than what girls pay to meet boybands,” Hermione replied with furrowed brows. “I’m disturbed.”

“Widowed rich women are a force to be reckoned with,” Draco replied.

Hermione just shivered at the thought.

They finished up dinner with quiet conversation, and Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach as she folded up her napkin and placed it on her now clear plate.

“That was delicious,” she smiled. “Thank you so much, Draco.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Would you care to join me for another drink?”

“I’d love to,” Hermione replied, feeling like a woman and not a 21-year-old girl.

Draco led her into what he called the family room, which she was pleased to see looked lived in and well-loved. There was a large, comfortable leather sectional with a fuzzy white throw blanket artfully tossed over it and a huge television. What truly caught her attention, though, were the books that lined the built-in shelves on the back walls.

“You can look later, if you’d like,” Draco murmured lowly, sitting on the couch at the corner of the couch’s ‘L.’ He patted the spot to his right, and Hermione sat down closer to him than she would’ve liked.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Personal libraries can show you a lot about someone.”

“You’ll have to see my collection back in Charlotte, that’s where most of my favorites are. These are mostly duplicates and books I’ve received from authors out here, nothing special.”

Draco sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.

“I’m… not going to lie, Hermione, I haven’t done this before. So please take me at my word when I tell you I’m not going to blame you if you leave at any point. All I ask is for your discretion.”

Hermione nodded, not wanting to interrupt him as he got the ball rolling on a conversation she’d been dreading and anticipating for what felt like months now.

“Can you look at me while I speak to you?” Draco asked, authority oozing through his tone. Hermione’s eyes flicked up towards his. “Good girl. Do you understand that your consent matters to me? That this isn’t a one way street?”

“I do,” Hermione nodded. “When you say you’re not going to blame me, what does that mean?”

“It means that I’m not going to blame you,” he replied, reaching a hand towards her before pulling it back. “I… am a man who knows what he wants, but I was raised with the understanding of how a lady should be treated. Your consent can be revoked at any point; whether because you find a boy your own age or can’t handle the extraneous factors that come with me being who I am.”

“How are you so sure of who I am and our compatibility?”

“The day we met… I laid in my bed tossing and turning as I thought about the way Flint made you cry. I was so angry with him, with myself, thinking that I could’ve followed you and made sure you were okay. A precious thing like you crying; and then you disappeared. You’d said it was your last day, but the thought of you had me sick every time you came to mind. Then you were in my office a few months later; I thought I was seeing things. You came to me… and you were even better than I’d built you up to be in my head.”

“You remember that?” Hermione asked shyly, feeling so far removed from the teary girl on the elevator.

“How could I forget?” Draco asked seriously, reaching out for her hand. This time he took it, his large hand dwarfing her own. “Pretty little thing in a bright purple dress and gray blazer? The awful sight of tears in those pretty caramel eyes… You were living rent free in my head until I saw you again.”

“It was embarrassing,” Hermione mumbled, running a hand over her hot face.

“I could’ve killed Flint,” Draco replied, voice tight like it’d happened yesterday and not a year ago.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she giggled despite herself and giving his hand a squeeze. A thumb brushed over the back of her hand, comforting. Warm. Possessive.

“If only House terms were six years like the Senate, I could probably kill him the day after the election and get reelected by over 40 points.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Is that all that matters?”

“No,” Draco replied. “But it matters. Your career matters too… we’ll need to be discreet. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Hermione replied.

“I’m a selfish man,” Draco murmured, removing his hand from Hermione’s to run it along her cheek. “I’m asking you to give up your best years for me, but I’ll make it worth it for you. I’ll treat you the way a boy couldn’t. Okay?”

Hermione had no idea what that meant, but turned her head at the insistent prodding of Draco’s hand on her jaw.

“Okay.”

His pillowy lips met hers softly, so soft that she was helpless but to sigh into his mouth. There were no sparks, but there was a deep contentment that soaked into her bones as if to say ‘stay here, right here and don’t leave.’ He felt like home, as much as an almost-stranger could.

Hermione was a well-read student of sexual education, but she wasn’t well-practiced. She’d never been sought after, not in the way boys flocked after someone like Pansy. 

Boys would pick her first for group projects, certainly, but for dates? Dances? Fraternity formals? Never. 

The only fraternity formal she’d gone to had been her sophomore year of college, and she had ended up paying $45 to get an Uber back to campus after her date tried to drag her into the men’s restroom and called her an ugly prude when she turned him down. So no, this was not something she was used to.

Pansy had been serious when they discussed her lack of sexual experience, telling her she very much thought Draco was a man who’d get off on her innocence. Hermione didn’t know how to take that, both as a sexually inexperienced woman and a person who found that concept rather chauvinistic.

Not liking the angle they were kissing at, Hermione scooted closer to him, letting out a noise of surprise as he dragged her sideways onto his lap. The position was much better, to his credit, allowing her to press her chest against his and run a hand through his blond locks for the first time. They were softer than she’d imagined, something that had her smiling into the kiss.

He kissed down her jaw until he reached her throat, and the noise of his kisses and her pants filled the room until his mouth was back on her own. His kisses were passionate in a way that had her floundering; how did she stop the path they were on? Would he be offended? As though he could read her mind, Draco pulled back.

“Perfect girl,” Draco murmured, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her close to him on his lap as though she were a precious toy. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Hermione confirmed, resting her head on his chest.

“Good,” Draco replied, sounding relieved. He pressed a kiss to the top of her curls, like he couldn’t help himself. “We should get you home… what are your plans this weekend?”

“Pansy’s dragging me to yoga tomorrow morning, then Eastern Market. Not much outside of that and church on Sunday.”

“My church girl,” Hermione could tell he was smiling as he said it without even seeing his face.

“Is that… a thing for you?” she asked.

“A thing?” he repeated.

“Like, you know… a sex thing,” Hermione replied, pressing her face into his chest.

Draco’s laugh was loud and beautiful.

“Not a sex thing, sweetheart. A shared faith in any relationship I have is important to me. It was just another pleasant surprise when I’d met you.”

“Because I’m a liberal?” she asked with a scoff, pulling away from his chest.

“No, because most ladies aren’t brave enough to wear their cross around their neck. I like that you are.” he reached down to finger her cross reverently, and she tried not to squirm on his lap knowing that his hands were so close to her breasts.

“Thank you,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest without thinking. As though they’d been dating for years. “Where do you go to church when you’re here? Capitol Hill Baptist?”

Draco laughed, “Got it in one. That predictable?”

Hermione nodded, thinking of the church; it was a typical baptist church that had services lasting almost three hours each week. She’d attended once as an intern, but didn’t feel that it was the right church for her.

“What about you? Let me guess… Grace DC? District Church?”

“Very impressive! District Church.”

“My darling, bleeding liberal, what am I going to do with you?” Draco asked playfully before tickling her. She let out a surprised laugh at the teasing motion, sucking in deep breaths when he finally stopped his assault.

“Take me or leave me,” Hermione shrugged.

“I’ll take you,” Draco replied immediately, loving the laugh he got in return. “Would you join me for dinner tomorrow night? You could put my kitchen to use, if you’re interested.”

“I’d love to,” Hermione smiled. “What kind of foods do you like?”

“Anything, really.”

“That’s not true,” Hermione replied with the shake of her head. “People who say they like anything always have a but behind it.”

“Anything, but I’m not a huge fan of curry, cream-based soups or squash. Or ranch.”

“Ranch?” Hermione asked.

“You asked what I don’t like, I told you what I don’t like.”

“Okay, no ranch, no squash soup.” Hermione let out a laugh. “Pansy… she bet me $20 that you’d be making lasagna tonight.”

“Lasagna? Lasagna? That’s not even southern. She could’ve at least guessed barbeque or fried chicken.”

“I’ll make something good,” Hermione smiled. “If you let me use your Kitchenaid, I’ll even make dessert.”

“Kitchena- oh… the big waste of counter space,” Draco replied. “Mother insisted that I needed it, but I haven’t touched it.”

“I want to cry just hearing that,” Hermione groaned.

They were quiet for a minute, both of them realizing that they needed to end their time together before they crossed a line they weren’t ready to cross.

There was power in intimacy, Hermione knew, but stretching a new relationship too quickly would cause it to snap back right in her face.

“Do you need a ride?” Draco asked.

“No, I live close enough to walk,” Hermione replied.

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said, standing up with Hermione still bundled on his lap and placing her carefully on the ground.

She blushed at the way he watched her fix the bottom of her dress, his eyes possessive and hungry as they roved her body.

“That’s okay, it’s really not far.”

“Hermione,” Draco chastised in a steely voice. “You’ll let me walk you home. Your safety is important to me.”

“Okay,” she smiled weakly.

“Do you have a taser or pepper spray?” he asked as they walked back towards the front door.

“No need,” she shook her head. “I’ve always felt relatively safe in the city, surprisingly.”

Draco let out a groan, “You… does your father know?”

She snorted, “My father doesn’t know that I moved across the city this month, let alone whether or not I have self defense items in my purse.”

Draco frowned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You don’t… thank you,” Hermione changed what she was going to say at the reprimanding look from Draco. Why did that look make her feel so warm?

“Your protests to being pampered are sweet, but futile,” he promised.

Hermione just rolled her eyes as they stepped out of the house and down the stairs.

“I didn’t realize you lived so close,” he said as Hermione shared her address.

“I just moved in with Pansy. My roommate was a nightmare, and she was living alone, so… it made sense.”

“Does Pansy still want a job?”

“You asked that a few days ago… are you actually going to fire Marietta?”

“You sound far too pleased about that possibility,” Draco smirked, face illuminated by the streetlights.

“She’s… sour. Would I strengthen my case if I shared the nasty, haughty emails she sends around on the tour coordinators listserv when she doesn’t even coordinate tours for your office?”

Draco let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “The case is already made and my chief and I are sitting down with her this week, but please send me these emails. DM@mail.house.gov.”

“Easy enough to remember,” she replied sarcastically.

Draco walked her all the way up to the door of her light purple row home, making her feel like she was experiencing the magical end of a first date that her adolescence was bereft of.

“I’ve definitely been here,” he said, looking up at the house.

“Not surprising, I know Pansy’s family runs in your circles.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Draco smiled, eyes darting out towards the street as though nosy neighbors would watch them together and know exactly who he was. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”

“Everything was lovely, the food, the wine, you…” Hermione blushed, and Draco had to press a kiss to her lips at the girl’s praise.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t break a hip at yoga.”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” she groaned, opening the door.

“Wait,” Draco said as she moved to go inside, pulling out his wallet. “For dinner.”

“No, you don’t…” Hermione shut up at the look on his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re learning. Good girl,” he smiled, pressing a final kiss to her lips.

It was only when Hermione got inside, where Pansy was waiting with a large glass of wine that she looked down and realized that she was holding $200 in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts!!!! Please and thank you! Tumblr is thiscitychickk.tumblr.com :)
> 
> A quick breakdown of Congressional office structure in the House in case it's helpful. Members of Congress have staff in both DC and their district. DC staffers are "legislative staff" which means they focus on the legislation that is on the floor of the House for votes and getting it passed into law. They also work on the hearings that take place on committees that their member is on.
> 
> District offices have staffers that deal with "constituent work" AKA helping people deal with federal agencies... helping veterans receive the benefits they've earned from the VA, assisting older folks with receiving social security, solving IRS problems, immigration casework... and they also help their boss put on events in their district, from town halls to tours of local businesses.
> 
> So in DC offices, here's a basic rundown of staffers from lowest position to senior staff.
> 
> Staff assistant: bottom of the totem pole, sits at front desk, answers phones greets guests, lets staffers know that their meetings are there, inputs requests that come in for Capitol/White House/Treasury tours. (salary typically $28-35k)
> 
> Legislative Correspondent/LC: writes letters all day that responds to emails/letters/calls from constituents. Example- person calls asking member's position on banning automatic weapons. LC will draft a letter in the voice of the Member of Congress and send it back to them. (salary typically $35-40k)
> 
> Legislative Assistant/LA: most offices have 2-3 LAs. These people handle the different "issue areas" that come up in Congress. So an LA could have a portfolio of 'housing, animal welfare, agriculture, veterans, and homeland security' and another LA could have 'immigration, national security, treasury, human rights, and climate change.' They'll take meetings with groups that come in to discuss their specific issue areas, draft legislation on the issues in their portfolio and help the Member of Congress with questions/hearings if the member is on a committee that deals with those issues. (for example, in this story I have both Draco and James on the Energy and Commerce Committee which deals with health care, consumer protection, energy, environment, and digital commerce, so their health care staffer, Frank for JP and Theo for DM would come to committee meetings with them and help make sure they're prepared for those hearings)  
> (salary typically $40-50k)
> 
> Legislative Director/Leg Director/LD: this is the head honcho of a member's legislative shop. someone who's spent years as an LA and got promoted to oversee a member's entire legislative messaging/strategy. so they oversee the LAs and LC. they normally handle the member's primary issue, so that's why Frank handles health care for James, which is his number one priority in Congress.  
> (salary typically $80-100k)
> 
> Communications Director/CD/Press Secretary: this person runs a member of congress' social media and writes their newsletters, press releases and speeches and will set up interviews with the press. some offices have press assistants/digital assistants or digital directors, too, but the CD/ press sec is the primary contact for literally all writing in the office. (salary typically $50-100k, unfortunately varies depending on the office and how they value comms)
> 
> Chief of Staff/Chief/CoS: this is the boss of the entire office; district and DC. some chiefs only work out of DC, some only out of the district, some travel with the member. they are the babysitter for the staff and the member and usually have a very close relationship with the member. they are the only sort of hr or human resources that we have on the hill, so they also act as a therapist and mediator a lot of times between staffers.  
> (salary typically $125-173,900k)
> 
> $173,900k is the maximum salary a staffer can receive in the House.
> 
> $174k is the salary of non-leadership members of the House and Senate
> 
> Here's a super interesting look by the official Congressional Research Service on salaries in the House, if you're into that sort of thing.
> 
> https://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R44323.pdf


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a fantastic thanksgiving, to those who celebrate! Mine was spent without family for the first time, which is heartbreaking and supppper weird, but I had plenty of time to write.
> 
> The next chapter, which I'm soooo excited to share, is almost done. Some of yall have asked about a posting schedule... I don't normally ascribe by one due to the nature of my job and the random times I'm able to write. After this, I'm hoping to get 2 updates in a week if I can work up enough content over this weekend.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and your comments, they mean the world and keep me engaged.

“Hi,” Hermione smiled as she hiked her heavy reusable bags onto her shoulder again as she walked up the front steps.

“I’ll take those,” Draco replied, carefully grabbing the colorful bags off her arm. “You making me food for a week, sweetheart?”

Her heart fluttered at the term of endearment.

“Not tonight, no, but I made dessert,” she smiled.

“You spoil me,” Draco murmured, bringing everything into his kitchen. “How can I help?”

“You can show me where your pans are?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied seriously before smiling. “I’m joking, but I’m not sure they’ve ever been used.”

The man opened the two cabinets directly under the stove, revealing a ridiculous amount of Le Creuset.

“Really? You haven’t touched these?” she asked, unable to help the way she moved over to get down on her knees and peruse the oyster gray and caribbean blue pieces.

“Never,” he replied. “Will they work?”

Hermione let out a loud laugh, “Draco… this is my dream cookware. They’ll more than work.”

He looked pleased as she stood up. “Good. Let me know if you need anything and we can pick it up. They sell these pots and pans around here, right?”

Hermione nodded, “There’s a Le Creuset outlet at National Harbor.”

“We’ll go soon.”

“Have you ever been to an outlet mall?” Hermione asked with a playful giggle, randomly opening up drawers and cabinets until she found a cutting board and knife.

“I can’t say I have,” Draco replied. “Am I missing out?”

“Well, if you haven’t been to an outlet mall, I’m assuming you’re not scouring for the best deals possible. So no, I wouldn’t say you’re missing out on anything other than last season’s unpopular Bath and Body Works candles at dirt cheap prices.”

“I’ll pretend I know what that means,” Draco said, a smile evident in his voice.

Hermione shook her head, finally finding a cutting board… wooden, which showed just how little he cooked.

“Add a cutting board to your list,” Hermione called to the man as she started chopping up vegetables.

“What’s wrong with that one?” he asked, pulling out a notepad from a drawer and endearing himself to Hermione even more.

“Wooden cutting boards are hard to clean; they look nice, but that’s about it.”

“Noted. What are you making?”

“A chili-garlic glazed salmon with veggies and rice… someone gave me enough money to buy vegetables, thought I’d go all out,” Hermione smiled.

“That sounds amazing, sweetheart. The way you said that makes you think you normally don’t eat vegetables.”

She shrugged, slicing the yellow pepper into long pieces.

“Depends on the week, honestly, but I normally just make do with frozen medleys. This is much better.”

“That’s no good,” Draco replied, his voice concerned enough for Hermione to look up from her work.

She smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s par for the course for most young people’s salaries. I make do, this is just a nice, indulgent surprise. What do you normally eat if you don’t cook?”

“I’m a fan of routine when it comes to food, which my staff likes to make fun of. Fruit and coffee for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and dinner unfortunately means eating whatever is in front of me at events.”

“What about when you’re in North Carolina?”

“I miss out on far more meals that I’d like to admit when I’m home. There’s just… too much to do and too little time, but my staffers all prod me to eat.”

“That’s no good,” she frowned. “Could you… hire a chef to cook for you?”

Draco smiled. “I’m sure I could, it just has never seemed important. From the moment I touch down until I leave Charlotte, I’m focused on being out with the people I represent. I’d rather eat an energy bar and pack in an extra elementary school visit than sit down for lunch.”

“That’s sweet,” Hermione smiled, a fondness in her at the mention of something children-adjacent. Her brain was screaming about what a danger zone that was. Draco and kids. Not their kids, just… Draco and kids was a nice thought.

“Part of the job,” Draco shrugged. “Oh, would you like some wine?”

“Yes please,” Hermione smiled.

“My mother would have my head, knowing I hadn’t offered yet.”

Hermione giggled, taking the proffered glass of rosé.

“Mmm, my favorite,” she smiled after taking a sip. It tasted far more expensive than the $4.99 bottle she always purchased at Trader Joe’s, much to Pansy’s horror.

“That so? A lucky guess, then.”

“What is your family like?” she asked tentatively, curious but unsure of whether or not it was safe to broach the topic.

“You don’t have to be nervous, sugar,” Draco replied gently, clearly amused at her obvious nervousness. “I won’t say I’m an open book, not even close, but I want to share my life with you.”

“It’s weird, right? Getting to know people is always weird as an adult, but this is especially odd.”

Draco laughed, “You’re not wrong. It’s a weird dance, switching off from my public persona to myself.”

“Oh?” Hermione’d finished chopping up the vegetables, a colorful mixture of peppers, broccoli, green onions and asparagus, and stepped to her right to turn on a burner under a gorgeous gray cast iron skillet. She only had a slight fear she’d burn Draco’s kitchenware, but had a faint feeling that he would just buy new pieces without even blinking if she did.

“Absolutely.”

“That makes sense, if I’m being honest,” Hermione replied, speaking easily now that she was turned away from Draco’s intense, watchful gaze. “I remember meeting Rep. Potter at events growing up and thinking he was just… so engaged and caring about everything that people brought up to him. But when I started my internship, I could see the facade that it was.”

“Do tell.”

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. “It was sort of funny, actually, because I think I’m the only one who really understood that it was all a show. He’d always come into the office and shout to staff in the back office before realizing us interns were there. Then he’d say something about wanting to get time on the books to spend with us, but we literally didn’t sit down with him until our end-of-internship pizza party. Now, I can just tell he’s half listening to everything people come in to share with him. But I don’t blame him… I can’t imagine just being talked at day in and day out, it has to be mind numbing.”

Draco laughed, “That sounds about right, as much as I hate to say it. People care less about you and more about the fact that they have an audience with someone they deem important.”

“You’re still a person, though.”

“That’s crazy talk, sugar. I believe I’m actually a ‘demon in a sexy skinsuit sent to brainwash well-meaning millennials into voting against their own interests.’

Hermione laughed loudly, throwing back her head. “What? Is that a thing?”

“Definitely a thing,” Draco replied, emphasizing the word ‘thing’ like it was a phrase he hadn’t used before. He probably hadn’t, honestly. Hermione liked to think she was turning him onto the phraseology of her generation. “Twitter liberals have a lot to say about me, I don’t look, but Gemma, my communications director felt it prudent to share that one.”

“It’s kind of funny if you remove all emotion and meaning from it,” Hermione replied, satisfied with the pan’s ability to saute the vegetables. Now was the hard part, figuring out the right time to put the asparagus and marinated salmon in so that they wouldn’t overcook or undercook. She felt pressure for the meal to be perfect.

“Too right. The only way you stay sane in this field is removing all emotion and meaning from the words of people who you’ve never met. Which brings me back to your original question… my family. I grew up in Charlotte, my father was in the state house by the time I was 2 and the youngest member in Congress by the time I was a boy. My sister, Columba, is four years younger than me and married with a son. She’s back in Charlotte and lives next door to our mother’s parents.”

“I love that, it sounds like your family is close,” Hermione smiled. “It’s sweet.”

“As sweet as rich southern elites can be,” Draco snorted. “They’re good people, and I’m grateful that family was always prioritized, despite my father and grandfather’s jobs.”

“Does your mother work?” Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

“She doesn’t have a 9-5, no, but she’s always been plenty busy with philanthropic endeavors and keeping my father in line.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a poorly kept secret, but Malfoy women are the secret sauce when it comes to our success. Mother’s enjoyed the chance to micromanage both father and I, but thankfully she backed off when I didn’t crash and burn after my first term. She’s a good woman.”

“She sounds like it,” Hermione replied, leaving most of her questions left unasked. It was too soon to ask for a complete rundown of the Malfoy family. “Does she stay in North Carolina when your father’s in Washington?”

“No, she’ll travel with him 9 times out of 10. 42 years into marriage and they still act like loved-up teenagers.” Hermione saw the fondness and wistfulness in his expression and tucked the memory of it away for later.

“Oh wow, they must’ve gotten married young.”

“Mother was 16, father was 17… they had me a year later, epitomizing every stereotype of southern Christians, I know.”

“I think it’s sweet,” she said honestly, flipping the salmon and feeling pleased at the gorgeous sear on the fish. Almost time to eat. “A loving marriage after all of these years is something to be celebrated, in my opinion.”

“Right you are, sweet girl. Right you are. What about your family?”

She shifted her weight, trying to think through the level of honesty she should share.

Pansy had a lot of advice when it came to dating, and this was what the rich girl had called a choose-your-own-adventure conversation.

Hermione could be vague and patch over her familial drama, only to stay with Draco long-term and have him realize she’d lied to him whenever he thought back on this conversation.

Or, she could be honest and have him thinking she overshared for this stage of their relationship. It was a bit of a lose-lose, if she was honest, so she followed her gut instinct.

“Where to start,” Hermione laughed nervously. “I grew up in Seattle with my mom and dad, but they both were born and raised in California, actually.”

“What do they do?”

She swallowed. This never got easier.

“They met in dental school.”

“Ah, dentists? An important profession. You didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?”

Hermione faltered, deciding now wasn’t the time to burden Draco with the woe-filled tale of the Grangers.

“No,” she shook her head, glad he couldn’t see her as she finished fluffing the rice. She wasn’t technically lying, just omitting. “I’d always just wanted to be a part of societal change… I was the girl running a real campaign for sixth grade class president, buttons and all.”

“Oh? What was your platform?”

Hermione blushed, “Equal distribution of pizza and cookies throughout each grade’s lunch period; eighth graders ate first and sixth graders last, so there were never any cookies left by the time we made it to the caf. Starting fundraising for the eighth grade trip to Washington early so that all students could afford to go… the normal campaign promises.”

“A woman of the people, were you? Did you win?”

“I did,” Hermione replied. “Now that I’m in Washington, though, I think anyone who runs for office has to be a bit crazy, no offense. But I like being behind the scenes.”

“No offense taken,” Draco laughed. “I think the same thing all of the time… it’s one of those jobs that has its good days and bad days.”

“I feel the same about mine, and most of my interactions are only on the phones. I can’t imagine going back to a district.”

“Thankfully most of my constituents have southern hospitality, even when they disagree with me. They’re also familiar with my family, which makes things a bit easier.”

“Not to talk shop, but your seat was held by dems until your grandfather, right?”

“I never mind answering your questions, sweetheart. You’re correct; grandfather flipped the seat in 1968, right after he’d turned 25 and was eligible to run for the House. He was actually 24 when he won the primary… doesn’t much happen like that anymore.

“He was appointed to the Senate by North Carolina’s governor after the sitting senior senator, Amando Dippet, died in 1989… It happened almost right after he was sworn in. The man’s term wasn’t up until 1994, which meant grandfather would serve almost the entirety of his term. That was enough time for him to realize he wasn’t a huge fan of the institution.

“Between us, he wishes he would’ve stayed in the House, but couldn’t turn down the governor. So father ran in the special election for the House seat, won handily, and then ran for the senate seat in 2000 after my grandfather announced he wasn’t running and won…. A bit of a whirlwind of family history, honestly.”

“Then 16 years later, you came along?”

“Exactly,” Hermione could tell Draco was smiling even without looking at him. “Then there was a third Malfoy.”

“Quite the dynasty… I’m always surprised at how many there are in modern American politics.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of a familiar last name and comfortability.”

“Or beautiful blond hair,” Hermione added.

Draco’s laugh was warmer than she’d ever heard it.

“Where are your dinner plates?” Hermione asked, smiling at Draco when he brought two over.

“This looks amazing, Hermione.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, plating up a piece of salmon and a heaping pile of veggies and rice for each of them. Draco, southern gentleman that he was proving to be, insisted on carrying the plates in, winking at Hermione as he informed her she could grab the silverware.

With only a fond eye roll, she did just that.

xxx

“What does a normal Saturday in DC look like for you?” Hermione asked over dessert, pleased that they’d migrated to the couch for a more comfortable conversation. She’d made chocolate chip cookies for dessert and brought over ice cream, and Draco was surprisingly pleased with the minimal effort she’d put in. The man wouldn’t hear it, saying that even if it was a recipe she’d made countless times, baking cookies from scratch was special.

He’d let out a happy noise after trying the cookie that had her grinning. The back of bag Nestle Tollhouse recipe was forever impressing people who didn’t understand just how easy it was to follow.

“Depends on why I stayed. I’ll only stay if we have votes Friday and Monday or an event I can’t miss. Such as dinner with my sweet girl.”

Hermione wouldn’t admit that she choked on her bite of gooey cookie, but she did.

“You… did you cancel anything important back home?”

“Nothing that matters,” he replied, long legs stretched out on the sectional portion of the couch. He was just as well-dressed as he’d been the night before, pants clinging to his legs in a way that bordered on indecent. He was far too handsome for the likes of her.

“I feel bad.”

“Sweetheart,” Draco replied, turning and lifting her chin with one finger. “Trust that I wouldn’t make a decision without understanding its consequences, okay?”

Hermione looked down, feeling both chastised and reassured.

“My parents are here for the weekend, so it worked out well. We’ll go to church tomorrow, then have brunch and spend the afternoon in Georgetown.”

Hermione giggled, “Brunch is a concept that I’ll never understand. It’s so pretentious.”

“Oh? You think eating eggs, steak and foie gras with a pitcher of mimosa every weekend is pretentious?”

He leaned over to tickle her, shocking a squeak and full-throated laugh out of Hermione.

“Yes!” she squealed. “It is!”

“Not a brunch girl?”

Hermione weighed out to reply. “I’ve only been once, it was far too expensive for the ridiculously tiny portions that they considered shared plates. I’ve staged a protest organization against brunch, I have pins and everything.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Draco asked, a growing smile on his face.

“Let’s put it this way… would you like to be my first member?”

Draco laughed, a beautiful, mauscline sound tinkling in the air before he kissed Hermione’s cheek.

“It’d be my greatest honor. What do the pins say?”

“Well, I came up with the name when I was a bit tipsy following the awful brunch I went to, but it stuck. S.P.P.E.W. or Society of People who Prefer Eating Well.”

“I like it. I’ll see if I can rustle up some additional members for you, but I think we might be a two man band for a while.”

Hermione groaned, “Brunch isn’t even a thing outside of big cities! The idea that we are going to spend our weekend morning sitting around a table with people we barely like eating food that was prepared and cooked hours ago, which is a safety hazard most likely, getting drunk and making awkward conversation is blasphemous.”

“Let me take you to a nicer brunch and see if I can change your mind, hm?”

“You can try,” Hermione replied, dropping her head onto Draco’s shoulder. The man immediately placed a kiss to her hair.

“These curls…” he murmured.

Hermione tried not to stiffen as she waited for his reply. She’d heard every joke or insult in the book, but at the end of the day… she loved her hair. The insecure little girl inside of her hoped he did too.

“So pretty, I can always tell it's you from a mile away.”

“You’ve seen me in the hallway?”

“How could I miss you? Pretty little thing like you stands out in a sea of lumpy old men.”

Hermione giggled, turning to look up at Draco.

“What… what should I do if I see you this week?”

“I won’t seek you out and I ask you do the same, but there’s no harm in saying hello if we see each other. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know you, Hermione; I’m just not going to waltz into your office and ask you to grab lunch. I don’t know if that’d look well on either of us.”

“I think my chief would be both surprised and delighted if I had the chance to take an actual lunch break,” Hermione smiled, confused at the look of distaste on Draco’s face.

“What does that mean, if you took a lunch break?”

“There’s too much to do… It’s nice that they tell us to take an hour, but when I’m sitting at the front desk while members are in town and we have no interns, it’s completely unrealistic.”

“You can’t take it at your desk?”

“We can’t eat at the front desk, office policy,” Hermione replied. “Lee, our LC, said someone complained to the boss in a meeting after watching him eat at the front desk.”

“So what do they expect? You to go without eating for 12 hours?”

Hermione shrugged, she’d already gone through the anger and incredulity of the office policy.

“I’m not sure, I think that it doesn’t matter to them as long as I do my job.”

“Aren’t liberals the party of unions?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “One, we aren’t unionized in Congress… Two, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my office only cares as much as work is getting done and constituents and lobbyists are happy. I’ll eat lunch once I’m promoted.”

“That’s completely unacceptable.”

Hermione shrugged.

“That’s not… you can’t shrug off your personal health, Hermione. If you bring it up to your chief in an email, he’ll have no choice but to let you eat lunch or tell you face to face or via email that you can’t eat lunch.”

“I don’t like problems, Draco… I’m much more happy doing my work and going home with my senior staff thinking of me as the person who gets their job done without complaining.”

“That’s…” Draco took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “You’re not stirring up trouble by advocating for your ability to eat lunch.”

“Can we agree to disagree?” she asked quietly.

The man sighed, pulling Hermione onto his lap.

“For now. I can’t say this isn’t going to be difficult for me, hearing you go through the awful things that people do in their first jobs. Just let me help you where I can, okay?”

“This is a bit weird, isn’t it? How different our lives are.”

“You’re right, and that’s not going to go away. I’m old enough to be set in some of my ways, Hermione, I’m not going to sugarcoat that. I’m a possessive man, and I can’t imagine things between us are going to go well if you’re bucking against a core part of me.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment, mulling over her reply as she took Draco’s hand into her own like it could anchor her during this conversation that felt like it was coming far too soon into their relationship.

“I don’t… I can’t make any promises to you, Draco. In the same way I know that you can’t make any to me. But I’m very much interested in getting to know you better, and that means learning about all of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Which is what I’m pretty sure what dating is, only the stakes feel pretty high.”

Draco brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“There are no stakes, sweetheart. Right now, we’re just two people enjoying a second date. I’m no fool to think that we can continue in our own bubble forever, but for now, while we get to know each other? I’m content to do just that.”

“I like the sound of that,” Hermione smiled.

Draco’s smile was a dangerous thing, pearly white teeth and dimples. It was like God sat, caressing His chin, wondering just how he could piece together the perfect human when Draco was being formed. And, Hermione thought with a bit of hilarity, that God now sat smirking as he watched people fawn over Draco. His gray eyes with long lashes, a jawline that could cut glass and features that were just the right side of pointy. Taller than most men with lithe muscles that were substantial enough to still have women confident that he could carry them in his arms. Blond hair… the prettiest hair that boasted no dye, despite most people growing out of light blond hair by the time they were his age. He was beautiful.

Their lips met, a slow sort of kiss that required an intimate understanding of one another that two people who were still relatively strangers shouldn’t possess. But they did.

With every press of their lips and flick of his tongue, Hermione felt another nail hammered into the coffin that was her self control. Draco said he was possessive, and she believed it; his hand caressed her cheek, holding her mouth to his as though she’d pull away. As though she would want to be anywhere but his lap in an embrace that felt safer than anything she’d ever known.

When she thought back on it later that night, she’d feel ashamed about allowing herself to feel at home in a man’s arms, but now? Now she accepted it and melted into him.

“So good for me,” Draco whispered, gripping her face with both of his hands and pressing rapid kisses onto her lips that made her smile. “You’re so beautiful, Hermione… such a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, eyes darting down than up. “I… think you’re handsome.”

Draco’s face turned from lust and fondness to amusement. “Do you?”

Draco seemed uncannily talented at making Hermione blush.

“Yeah… I’m sure you’ve heard that, though. I’ll get in line.” Joking deflection was easier than the honesty that women like Pansy seemed so good at.

“I’ll join the Hermione fan club queue then as well.

Hermione laughed at the thought. “You’re first in line.”

“That is a lie if I’ve ever heard one. You are gorgeous, smart, compassionate and thoughtful. The line is at least two miles long.”

“I’m glad you think so highly of me,” she replied, not knowing what else to say. The yawn she let out was a saving grace.

Draco checked the watch on his wrist. What kind of man wore a nice watch around his house? Really rich, really hot ones, Hermione thought to herself.

“It’s almost eleven… I’ll walk you home.”

“Thank you,” she replied, not arguing this time.

Her acquiescence earned her a kiss on her temple.

“Can’t have you out alone in the dark, sweet girl.”

Draco insisted on slinging the reusable Trader Joe’s bags over his shoulder on their walk back, despite the fact that they were mostly empty.

“Do you grocery shop?” she asked with a giggle, liking the way he knocked his hip gently into her at the ribbing.

“I’ve been known to visit Whole Foods’ prepared food section.”

“Is it nice?” Hermione asked.

“Extremely,” he nodded. “The options change daily, and the food is always fresh.”

“I’ll have to check it out,” Hermione smiled, knowing there was no way she’d pay Whole Foods prices for anything. Or give Owl, who owned the grocery store chain, her money. Nott and the other higher ups at the corporation epitomized the worst of capitalism, and she’d stage her own one person protest against it.

“Maybe we can meet at the Navy Yard store for lunch one day this week, I’ll text you when my schedule is more clear. Which might be difficult, you know with me firing my scheduler this week.”

Hermione was caught between vindictive glee and sympathy.

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy, love. I’m sorry,” she replied, blushing into the darkness as the term of endearment slipped off her tongue.

Draco simply took her hand into his own, the first public display of affection he’d shown her. Even in the dark of the night, walking the quiet of the suburban sidewalks of Capitol Hill, it was special. Whatever they had felt special and fragile enough to be cherished.

“Hm, is Pansy gone?” Draco asked as they reached the front door of her and Pansy’s rowhome, the interior lights clearly off.

Hermione nodded, “She went out with some friends, she’ll be home later.”

“Are you okay to stay alone?” he asked, no humor in his tone at the ask.

Call her crazy, but it felt good knowing someone cared enough to ask. And even more so to know without a doubt that he’d stay with her if she said no.

“Mr. Parkinson installed an intense security system when we moved in. See? Doorbell camera,” Hermione smiled, pointing to her left where there was indeed a small lens.

“Good man,” Draco replied, face softening as he cupped Hermione’s face in his hands in a move that’d already become familiar. “Have a good Sunday… I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you for dinner… for everything.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Thank you for cooking for us.”

“Any time, now that I know you don’t cook… need to make sure you’re eating,” she laughed.

“Speaking of meals… buy yourself some good groceries this week, okay? Or order lunch to the office, whatever gets lunch in your tummy.”

She swallowed a laugh at the sound of Draco Malfoy saying tummy.

The man pulled out a wad of stacked bills from his wallet, like he’d been planning on this moment. Knowing what she knew about his generosity, she expected he did.

“I…” Hermione hesitated, thinking back to what he’d said earlier. Could she accept Draco’s kindness as love and service instead of charity or a knock on her ability to take care of herself? “Thank you, Draco…”

She’d try.

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’d like if you texted me when you eat lunch this week, if you remember.”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. I want to know if you’re able to eat,” Draco replied, running a hand through Hermione’s curls before kissing her lips, one, two, three more times.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, sounding far too much like a woman in love for one who’d just been on a second date.

“Lock your doors, please!” Draco called as he walked away, turning to smile at Hermione.

“Yessir!” Hermione called back, shutting the door.

She checked Pansy’s location on Find My Friends, running to change into her pajamas and wash her face when she saw the girl was moving back towards the house. They needed to talk.

xxx

**Pansy: Ummmm, I just got an email from Blaise Zabini asking if I could come in for an interview tomorrow**

**Hermione: Who’s Blaise saving?**

**Hermione: Saving* sorry autocorrect**

**Hermione: Zany UGH**

**Pansy: STOP. Draco’s chief.**

**Hermione: I tried! Oh, wow. So that means he fired Marietta…**

**Pansy: First thing on a Monday. Solid start to the week for that bitch.**

**Hermione: Are you going to go?**

**Pansy: Obviously I’m going to go! Eat lunch yet, Cinderella?**

**Hermione: I’m happy for you and will see you tonight! Xoxo**

**Pansy: Daddy Draco is going to be mad at you… get yourself something to eat, sis. Not worth whatever fit he’s going to throw.**

Hermione rolled her eyes, closing her phone and leaving the bathroom she’d been pacing in. She was glad Pansy was always on her phone, otherwise they’d never have a complete conversation; she only checked her phone when she took quick walk breaks to the bathroom, never knowing who was going to walk into the front office and have her texting as the first thing they saw.

xxxxxxxxx

“Hermione!” Lee called from the back office, voice frantic.

The girl smiled apologetically at the group of three health care lobbyists waiting for a meeting with the congressman before going to the back office. Figured that there would be a catastrophe on a Wednesday, the week had been far too calm thus far.

They looked like they could care less, clearly DC people instead of folks from the district coming specifically to meet with the congressman during a conference or some other event.

“What is it?” she asked, voice much lower than Lee’s.

“I fucked up,” he replied, looking far more nervous than she’d ever seen him. “I didn’t send out the June birthday cards.”

“The birthday cards for members?” she asked, wanting to clarify. He only nodded. “How can I help?”

“I need you to print the cards and the envelopes, I have to run to a transportation briefing for Dorcas. I’ll… find a way to get him to sign them tonight, but shit! Remus is going to kill me, it’s almost July.”

“It’ll be fine, we’ll get it done,” Hermione replied, smiling reassuringly at the man who was tugging on one of his braided locks of hair. Working under pressure was something she excelled at. “Just send me your files and I’ll make it happen.”

“You have to mail merge!” Lee yelped. “You know how?”

Hermione nodded, trying not to roll her eyes. Of course she knew how to mail merge.

Now it was Wednesday, her third day without lunch. She’d tried to make progress yesterday afternoon, starting an awkward conversation with Lee asking how he’d eaten lunch when he was staff assistant many moons ago, before the now-departed Divya had taken the role.

He’d kindly told Hermioned he would sit up at the front while she ate, but now… that didn’t seem like it’d happen. Not today, at least.

“Excuse me? Do you know when James will be here?” the oldest man in the group asked, his white hair wispy.

Hermione tipped her head towards the television where C-SPAN was playing.

“It looks like they’re finishing up the second to last vote,” she smiled, knowing that the group clearly knew that votes were going on as the bells continued to blare every now and then. “He’ll be back as soon as he can.”

Nothing was more annoying than people calling the congressman by his first name, like they were his friend. She knew better than that, at this point.

The same man sighed, “We’re supposed to meet with Congressman Malfoy directly after this, do you know where his office is?”

“I have the sheet,” the woman mumbled, fumbling with her leather padfolio.

“Oh, he’s right upstairs.” Hermione smiled.

“Hm, we might be able to make it…” the same man said to his two companions.

Hermione turned back to the email from Lee with an excel sheet in it. How did so many members have June birthdays?

Rep. Potter sent personal cards with a cheesy written message to each senator and member of congress for their birthday, which was great, but only if Lee remembered to print the cards out.

The problem was that Rep. Potter liked to sign each card himself and add a personal note, which meant it normally took two days for them to get them back from him instead of just having Frank quickly forge his signature. And now, on the 27th day of the month, for Lee to realize June cards hadn’t gone out… she knew their boss, who fancied himself friendly with all members, would be frustrated if not angry. She’d never seen Rep. Potter angry, and hoped she wouldn’t be there to witness it.

So she focused on mail merging the two spreadsheets, knowing that Rep. Potter had to run out at 4pm for a panel he was speaking on at American University and wouldn’t be back that night. Traffic was always awful at that hour, and he needed to be there by 5pm.

The door opened, and by the way the group stood, she knew it was Rep. Potter coming back.

“Hello! So sorry I’m late. Looks like we have another vote series in a bit, so we decided we’d meet together.”

“Oh, great!” the woman said, sounding far kinder than she did when speaking to just Hermione. Figures.

Hermione looked up, eyes wide at the sight of Draco in her office, smiling politely as he shook hands with the three lobbyists. What…

Frank popped up from the back office. “Nice to see you all again, we can head into the congressman’s office.”

“I hate to delay us any longer, but I haven’t had lunch yet. Would anyone want something from the cafeteria before it closes?” Draco asked now that the three lobbyists were being ushered into James’ office, looking anything but casual to Hermione’s eyes. Was she that familiar with him already?

“Oh, good thinking,” Rep. Potter smiled. “I haven’t eaten yet. Hermione, I hate to ask… would you mind zipping to the caf and grabbing food?”

She shook her head, “Of course not.”

“Nice to see you again. Have you eaten, Miss Granger?” Draco asked, his expression somewhere between smug and knowing. Hermione hadn’t lied to him, and kept their conversation about anything but eating lunch when they texted over the past two days. Draco hadn’t brought it up, which honestly shocked her. He didn’t seem like a man to forget his requests.

“Not yet, sir.”

“Grab yourself something. You don’t mind your front desk staff eating at their desk, no, James?”

James looked at him strangely. “Of course not, why would I care where my staff ate?”

Draco shrugged, smiling lightly. “Just wondering. I’ll take a chicken caesar salad, please, ma’am.”

“Sounds good for me as well if we have to eat and talk,” James replied, moving to walk into his office. “Just bring the food in when you have it!”

“Here you are, Miss Granger,” Draco said, handing over his credit card. An AmEx black card. “Please put your food on mine, it’s the least I could do.”

She blushed, forever charmed by him and his attention. It left her curious about whether or not her boss would’ve had her pay for their meals without thinking to reimburse her. He was a bit scatterbrained on the best of days.

“That’s far too kind, sir.”

“I insist, I’ll be checking the receipt to make sure you don’t pay,” Draco replied, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, of course! Good man, Draco. I’ll pay you back,” James leaned back to say. “Thanks, Hermione.”

She rushed out of the office, now fully overwhelmed by the tasks she’d been given. They had to drop everything when the boss asked for something, but she knew in this instance that Lee would lose his mind if he found out she’d left when the clock was ticking.

The cafeteria, though only down the hall, was extremely busy since Congress was in session and countless groups were in town for meetings. She picked up three chicken caesar salads from the fridge, a Sprite for Rep. Potter and a S.Pelligrino for Draco since she’d seen two packs in his fridge. They hadn’t asked for drinks, but she knew enough about the minds of men to know they’d want something to sip on.

The line moved quickly, thank God, and she couldn’t even feel bad about spending Draco’s money when they’d forced her to suffer through a long line filled with antsy middle schoolers.

She’d made the decision not to knock on Rep. Potter’s door and just open it up, feeling like the world’s worst waitress as she tried to be invisible and place down drinks, salads, plastic silverware and napkins in front of the men. Oh, and Draco’s credit card, which he took from her hand in a way that had her certain everyone could see the intimacy between them.

She went back to her desk and ate her salad at a fast clip, the feeling of Draco’s fingers esconscing her own still there as she stabbed crouton and romaine onto the fork. Lunch had never tasted so good.

She had finished formatting both the letters and the envelopes by the time the meeting had finished, ready to go to printing as Frank opened the door and waved the trio out.

He shut James’ office door and made his way back to the bullpen, leaving Hermione wondering if Draco had left through the private door in James’ office without saying goodbye. She wouldn’t blame him, but… she would like if he said goodbye, however casually.

Enough time had passed for her to think he’d already left that she made her way to the bullpen where the ridiculously large xerox machine was located, pretty confident she wouldn’t miss his exit.

God definitely had His hand on their office at the moment, as the $20k printer worked without error as she stuffed the small cards into the custom print slot. Learning how to maneuver the printer was truthfully the worst part of her job, but today there were no issues. Her shoulders relaxed minutely.

“Hermione?” Remus called, his light voice jolting her from her intense movements removing finished cards from the printer and adding more blank cards when the supply was low. If the printer ran out of cards, it’d provide an error message and require her to re-enter all of the settings. She treated it like a game, keeping the printer going.

“Yes?” she asked, smoothing her dress and moving back to the office, wishing she didn’t have to leave the printer when she was so close to being finished.

“Thank you, Remus,” Draco smiled as she stepped into the office. “I just wanted to give you my appreciation once more for lunch, Miss Granger. I’m aware that picking up food is far below your talent level, but I’m grateful for it.”

“Of course, sir. Always happy to help, even if that involves retrieving a subpar salad,” Hermione replied, fully aware that her chief of staff was watching the interaction carefully. She couldn’t figure out if he was wary of Draco or thought she’d say something stupid to the member. Both possibilities were insulting, quite frankly.

Draco laughed. It was a balm to Hermione’s frazzled nerves.

“Sometimes that’s the best we can get on days like today,” Draco replied, sharing a sympathetic look with Remus who was clearly still there. Still watching. “I have to be honest, I’m glad you let your staff assistants eat at their desks, Remus. One of my team members was telling me that a friend of theirs went without lunch most days because they can’t eat at the front desk. Such a shame.”

Remus hid his thoughts well at the weird turn of conversation, which impressed Hermione. Then again… Members of Congress were weird and quirky; this was hardly the most random conversation he’d had with one.

“That is a shame, congressman. You’d think folks would care about the health of their staff; all we ask is that Hermione shares her baked goods when she brings them in… she’s a heck of a talent.”

“That right? Hopefully I’ll be lucky enough to try one next time I’m here,” Draco said.

Hermione smiled again.

“Anyways, thank you for the hospitality. I hope your salad had more croutons than mine, Hermione. Enjoy your day,” Draco nodded, walking out of the office.

Remus looked over at Hermione for a second, consideringly. “Have you eaten lunch?”

Her stomach was in knots. “Yes, sir. I’m… sorry, the congressmen asked if I’d bring them lunch and told me to grab food.”

His look was apologetic. “Don’t apologize for eating; now that I hear it from someone else... to hell with what visitors think. Just try and check James’ schedule and coordinate your lunch when large groups aren’t up front, okay?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

Remus smiled before heading back to his office.

She couldn’t be angry when Draco had so swiftly and subtly recalibrated her office’s most debilitating policy. How’d he do that with just a few carefully chosen words? The man was good… and he was using his goodness for her sake. It was a heady feeling.

Hermione went back to the printer, looking around before pulling out her phone and sending a text.

**Thank you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know your thoughts! Thiscitychickk.tumblr.com - come find me and let's chat :)
> 
> Here is some math that yall were asking about and took me FOREVER to verify via calculator and working up many equations that had me looking like the confused old math lady gif. I personally hate adding authors notes on things that will be shared in the story, but this is warranted because Congress is confusing.
> 
> The US Constitution says that Members of the House of Reps (435 Members) must be 25 years old and are up for election every 2 years. So every 2 years, the ENTIRETY of the House is up for re-election.
> 
> The Constitution says senators (2 from each state, so 100 members of the body altogether) must be 30 years old and are re-elected every 6 years. So every two years, approximately 1/3 of the Senate is up for election.
> 
> The US president must be 35 years old. so 25, 30, 35 are the age requirements for House, Senate, President.
> 
> Background:  
> The year is 2018.  
> Hermione is 21, 22 in August.  
> Draco just turned 40 in June. He was first elected to the House/Congress in 2010 and is serving his 4th term currently.  
> Lucius, Draco's father, is 58. He was first elected to Congress in 1988 after winning a special election for the seat vacated by his father (that's a fancy way of saying they held a race for the seat in the middle of the year so they could fill it even tho it wasn't an election year). He is the Majority Leader of the Senate, AKA the same position that Mitch McConnell has.  
> Abraxas was born in 1943 and is 75. He was first elected to the House in 1968, and served one term in the US Senate from 1988-1994 and then did a major switcheroo and was running for the House while in the Senate while Lucius ran for the Senate seat while he was in the House. Served back in the House for 8 more terms from 1994-2010 when he retired and sweet Draco took the reins.
> 
> For my non-political friends or newly-political folks, this is a REAL thing. Look at this article from 2014; dynastic powers in Congress have only grown since then, too: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2014/04/29/family-dynasties-how-power-begets-power-in-congress/
> 
> Hope this helps! I hate math!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! You guys are incredible, and I'm so grateful for your kind comments that continue to spur me on. I really appreciate your love for this fic! hope you all enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments below!

July 5, 2018

Hermione trudged home from work, cursing House Speaker Dumbledore, Majority Leader McGonagall and all of their staffers who decided it’d be a good idea to come back to pass a budget deal the day after the Fourth of July.

Votes, as they were on all days when members flew in, were postponed until 6:30pm. But with Hermione being the only person besides Remus who was in the office that day, she was asked to stay until votes and Rep. Potter’s Energy and Commerce Committee markup finished, which meant it was now 9:30pm.

The only consolation was that Remus bought her dinner; unlike other days, she didn’t even try to pretend that she wanted to pay her own way. With Lee and Tonks ‘out sick’ in addition to Penelope, Dorcas, Frank, and Caradoc out on planned vacations… she deserved free food.

It was also Pansy’s first day working for Draco, and Hermione hoped the girl had gotten out of the office much sooner than she did. Knowing how Draco liked to treat his staff, she was sure he did.

And she hadn’t even seen Draco since Friday; it was now Thursday. The man had flown home on a redeye Saturday morning, knowing he had to be in the district for the Republican glory fest that was Independence Day, but wanting to see her before he left. They’d spent their sixth day together, this time, watching a movie and eating Domino’s.

It was her favorite date with him so far, spent seeing his fun and dare she say normal side. It was nice to know he had sweatpants, well, as close as lululemon joggers came to sweatpants, in his closet and knew how to shove a slice of pizza in his mouth without cutting it with a fork and knife.

For whatever reason, seeing him like that made him certain that this could work despite all of the circumstances surrounding them that this awful Thursday had made so clear.

The House needed to pass the 12 appropriations bills necessary to fund the government and its agencies by July 9th, and they were already cutting it close with voting on July 5 as the Senate still would need to vote on the bills once they passed the House. And, of course, after that, President Shacklebolt would need to sign the bills.

Otherwise? The government would shutdown, which would mark the first shutdown since 1943. The national news was already inciting panic over the possibility as this was the closest the federal government had cut it since the ‘43 catastrophe.

Hermione’d spent the past two weeks fielding calls from people who were angry that the government wasn’t funded and crying people who were terrified of a shutdown after watching Fox and WWN.

Without the government funded, she knew just how many people’s lives would change, even if it was for only a few days.

New and replacement Social Security cards wouldn’t be issued; people who needed help wouldn’t receive it.

VA call centers and hotlines wouldn’t be functioning; veterans wouldn’t be able to call when they were in need or on the brink of doing something unthinkable and reversible.

Housing loans wouldn’t be processed. Federal loans to small businesses would cease.

TSA agents and air traffic controllers would work without pay, almost certainly throwing the entirety of the air travel industry into havoc within two days of a shutdown.

Those receiving federal food assistance would likely see changes in their ability to buy groceries.

So yes; Hermione knew how important it was to fund the government, which is why she couldn’t believe that Frank didn’t change his vacation plans when his wife was a cruise executive who could very well book a trip with the snap of her fingers. And for Tonks, James’ godforsaken communications staffer not to come in because she was hungover after the Fourth of July, leaving Hermione to write a press release on the actions of her own boyfriend?

She was going to lose her shit.

So yeah, the day had been awful starting with the publication of a press release from one Congressman Draco Malfoy at 10am.

Draco had blown the entire appropriations process up with a report detailing the allocation of money to pet projects in districts across the country. The problem, of course, being that every dollar hidden in the 12 government funding bills were for Democrats’ districts.

$2.3 million for the creation of a Boston Red Sox Museum in House Speaker Dumbledore’s district.

$1.9 million towards the highway connecting Universal Studios, Seaworld and Disney in Rep. Milana Thomas’ district.

$750k to refurbish a single entryway to Grand Canyon National Park in Rep. Alastor Moody’s district.

$9.7 million towards a defense contractor in Rep. Aurora Sinistra’s Houston-area district.

And, of course, $17.6 million to Owl’s newly created Seattle headquarters in Rep. James Potter’s district.

Immediately after Draco’s report was released, House Minority Leader Corban Yaxley, a Republican from Texas, released a statement that all House Republicans would vote against each of the 12 appropriations bills when they were slated to be on the floor later that day.

And, to make things even better, the fiscally-conservative Blue Dog Coalition among the House Democrats released a statement an hour after that that they’d all be voting against the bill.

So no, Hermione had not had a good day.

The worst part was that she couldn’t pinpoint what she was most mad at. Was it the fact that the government likely wasn’t going to be funded? That her and Remus shouldered the brunt of James’ anger, the press emails that Tonks had autoforwarded to Remus’ inbox, the threats coming in from people around the country over the audacity of James trying to ‘sneak money for a wealthy corporation into the bill?’

Or was it the fact that she talked to Draco on the phone yesterday before going to bed, the sound of fireworks popping over the Charlotte, North Carolina sky in the background of the call as he was driven home in an Uber, and he said nothing? That she was caught completely off guard in his obliteration of bipartisan cooperation, and now her boss was caught up in a scandal for the first time in his long career.

Of course, there was the fact that earmarks were always in bills. The millions for national parks in Marcus Flint’s Montana district? The millions for military bases across the country in GOP districts? Universities? Private companies? Defense contractors?

It was just that Draco had brought attention to it for God knows what reason, causing people who were now only getting into politics ahead of the midterm election to get angry and cry corruption.

Hermione couldn’t help but be frustrated because there was nothing she could do to explain to people who didn’t understand historical context, but chose to wail about the first perceived injustice they came across. It was easier that way, of course; to see government funding as something sinister and corrupt. Sure, she didn’t see the need for a Red Sox museum.

But Owl, which was one of the top private companies providing jobs in the entire nation? Why wouldn’t the government provide assistance to them?

Like Remus had said earlier when James was screaming in his office, door open so Hermione could hear, there was no use talking sense to people who didn’t understand and didn’t want to be proven wrong.

So she stomped home, wondering how the hell she was going to talk to Pansy about this. How she was going to reply to the text Draco had sent 40 minutes ago asking if she was home yet.

Feeling much like a teen in a sitcom heading home to confess to her parents after doing something awful, Hermione took a deep breath before unlocking the door and walking inside. She knew she was prone to fits of emotion, and Pansy didn’t deserve her ire.

“Sis?” Pansy called over the noise of the TV.

“One sec,” Hermione shouted back, letting out a sigh as she took off her heels.

She’d been wearing them all day, having traded off with Remus on who was accompanying James to the Capitol for votes and leadership meetings.

Since Tonks wasn’t there to record any questions he was asked by the press like she normally did during contentious voting days, they had to do it. It was eye opening for Hermione, and made it even more clear that she hated political communications.

Even though she wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and change into pajamas, she went into the family room to see Pansy.

“Go change!” Pansy shooed her off immediately. “You look close to death.”

“Thanks,” Hermione snorted, turning right around and going to put on a pair of her father’s old sweatpants and one of Harry’s fraternity shirts that declared her a Fiji for the world to see.

“What do you need?” Pansy asked, swirling wine in her glass and looking concerned as she muted the TV.

She shrugged, taking a shuddering breath as she sat on the couch and tried not to cry.

“C’mere,” Pansy cooed in the gentle voice she only ever used in private, crawling across the long leather sofa until she could pull Hermione into a hug.

Yeah, now she was crying.

“Want me to quit? I don’t think I like having a job anyways, but I can do it in your name,” Pansy asked, causing Hermione to laugh through her tears.

“You’ve worked one day!” Hermione croaked, sounding like a monster who’d been pulled from a long sleep in a pile of mud through her tears.

“Hated it. Did you know they make me sit at the front desk? An intern even asked if I’d proofread something for them. What do I look like to these people?”

Hermione laughed at that, resting her head on Pansy’s shoulder.

“Did James lose his shit?”

“Rep. Potter,” she corrected.

“I fucked his son, I think I can call his dad James.”

“Ew,” Hermione replied, scrunching up her nose. “That’s why you hate him?”

“Oh no,” Pansy shook her head. “He didn’t tell me his parents were coming in from Seattle even though he convinced me to stay the night in their lovely rowhome in Dupont Circle.

“I really, really think I can call him James after the man insisted on me staying for bagels after seeing his fully naked son fucking me into the kitchen counter as they opened the door to their home after a cross-country redeye.”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Hermione’s jaw was nearly on the floor. “They… saw?”

“Oh, they saw everything. And Harry thought it prudent to let them know who my family was during our family breakfast.”

“Lily definitely told him you were wife material,” Hermione laughed.

“You think I don’t know when he texted me asking me to grab lunch with his grandparents before he left?”

“Oh, Harry.”

“So now you know, which is clearly a testament to how awful and pitiful you look. Has Draco messaged you?”

Hermione nodded, handing over her phone.

“Why didn’t you reply? He literally asked if you’re home, it’s not that hard to say yes.”

“One, I wasn’t home. Two, I am pissed at him! He’s blown everything up and I had the worst day of my life because of it.”

“I hardly think this is the worst day of your life,” Pansy replied, giving Hermione the tough love she hated. The girl made it her life’s mission to lead Hermione off whatever emotional ledge she found herself on, even though it was a thankless job.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m annoyed with him, and any conversation we have via text isn’t going to do anything but irritate me further.”

“That’s very mature of you, but also not realistic. You need to text him back after you think through whether or not this is going to work, Hermione. This is the first, but not the last time he’s going to piss you off professionally.”

“I know that,” she replied defensively, getting an eye roll for her efforts.

“I’m not kidding you. I’m not infantilizing you, but you haven’t dated. I have dated, a lot, which is no surprise to you. It’s hard dating Democrats for me; once you get past your honeymoon phase and realize that there are very real differences in what you believe… that’s when the cracks show. All I’m telling you is that this is just the first battle of a relationship long war, only this is personal and professional warfare with your significant other.”

Hermione nodded. Pansy was right, of course.

“I think it’s been easy to pretend politics don’t exist outside of conversation, you know? We’ve talked about his family, about votes, about events, but it hasn’t been personal. Just… surface-level conversations about topics, not about our feelings or beliefs behind them. Kind of just polite conversation, you know? It’s like I didn’t want to break the ice yet.”

“He clearly doesn’t either; we both know he’s dated Democrats. There’s a reason those relationships don’t work out for most inter-party couples.”

“I know that! But putting all of those very real issues surrounding our beliefs and values and thoughts on human dignity aside, right now I’m just annoyed that he didn’t tell me what he was doing. Then I find myself pulling back; do I even have the right to be mad at him over this?”

“You want my honest answer?”

Pansy was being far too nice, which had Hermione very aware that she must look more frazzled than she thought.

“Always. You’re the only one who’s ever honest with me, and the only one who even knows about this.”

“He doesn’t need to tell you shit about his work. At the end of the day, you two are just dating without any formality. I don’t know how to say this softly, really, but you’ve been together less than a month, you are literally nothing in the grand scheme of a 40-year-old man’s life.

“You know? His life is service; the name Malfoy basically means serving the people of North Carolina. If he made the decision to blast House Democrats and basically ensure a government shutdown that will hurt people in his district, I’m pretty sure he had an important reason behind it.”

Pansy was right, the truth did hurt. But she didn’t push back, because there was nothing to push back on. His job came first until they were at the point when she did, if that point ever came. But right now, her goal was to figure out if she could bear waiting for that time where she knew without a doubt that she was first to him. Or at least tied for first with his work for the people he served.

“Did he… how was work?”

“All I was told was that he needed his schedule cleared, then his communications chick Gemma had me add a bunch of phone interviews with journalists and one tonight with Rita Skeeter.”

“Ew.”

“Ew is right. Skeeter’s staffer was a total bitch too, not that I’m surprised. He’ll be on at 10:03pm with her, if you want to watch.”

Hermione checked her phone. 9:53.

“I do,” she agreed.

“Why don’t you text him back before he goes on?” Pansy asked gently. “Just tell him you had a long day and you’re now home and going to sleep.”

Hermione nodded. She didn’t want to be the cause of his nerves before he went on one of the highest rated shows in television. Not that Hermione understood how people watched Skeeter’s garbage, of course.

**Hermione: Just got home, had a really long day. Talk tomorrow. Have a good night.**

“This okay?”

Pansy let out a noise. “Aw, give him an exclamation point or he’s going to come bang down the door.”

“He doesn’t deserve one!”

“Then you need to stop using them so much, girl. Any text you send without an exclamation point shows you’re either pissed or had your phone stolen and someone’s impersonating you.”

Hermione laughed. “Okay, there. Good?”

“Good, send it so he can not look like a manic, worried daddy on air.”

“Stop calling him that!” Hermione squeaked, face red.

Her phone pinged almost immediately with a text from Draco.

“Open it!” Pansy replied, poking Hermione’s side, but not stealing her phone. Never let it be said the girl didn’t have some self control.

**Draco: I’m sorry to cause you stress, sweetheart. Did you eat dinner? When do you have to leave for work tomorrow?**

Hermione replied immediately. It was dangerous, the way that even seeing the word sweetheart in a text caused her to melt into a puddle.

**Hermione: Not just your fault, but I appreciate it. Remus bought dinner for us. Will leave at 8am.**

**Draco: Okay. Thank you for letting me know you’re home and fed. I’m meeting with James tomorrow for lunch; please let me know what you’d like to eat and I’ll bring enough for your office.**

**Hermione: Will do. Goodnight!**

**Draco: Wishing you the sweetest of dreams, Hermione.**

“I can’t tell if it’s sexy that he texts like an old man,” Pansy said from over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Stop! He’s sweet.” Hermione defended without thinking.

“Okay, sure.”

“Was Theo there today?” Hermione asked with a smirk, grateful to switch the conversation for a few minutes.

“Absolutely was, he looked like the fat cat that got the canary every time he came to the front office. The water culligan is near my desk, I think he may have peed 15 times today with how many times he refilled his water.”

“How progressive, Republicans with refillable water bottles,” Hermione smiled, knowing she deserved the following flick on her arm from Pansy. “But that’s sweet… kind of dangerous, no?”

“Coworkers fuck all of the time,” Pansy shrugged.

“Didn’t you say you were looking for a husband?”

“We’re just innocent, young babies, Hermione. I’m not looking to get married today, but it’s better to keep an eye on Theo from up close and be able to share the story of how we worked together and fell in love slowly at our wedding. It’s very believable and will play well in the papers.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Smart and forward-thinking, you mean.”

“That too,” Hermione agreed.

“This bitch,” Pansy groaned as Rita Skeeter’s top-rated 10pm show on Fox News began. “Not even papa can deal with her, she’s awful.”

Thankfully, the woman’s normally scathing and newsmaking introductory segment was kept short so that she could cut to Draco.

“He looks good,” Hermione muttered.

“He’s far too good looking to be a politician. It’s not really fair to anyone else running against him in his district or future leadership elections. Hot people always win. Now listen.”

Pansy unmuted as Draco came onto the screen.

_**“Joining us live from the United States Capitol is Congressman Draco Malfoy. Despite the late hour, he’s working hard and here to keep our Fox News viewers informed. Thank you for joining us tonight for an exclusive interview.”** _

_**“My pleasure,” Draco nodded.** _

_**“Let’s dive straight in... what a report you released this morning outlining the egregious and self-promoting additions to this year’s appropriations bills! Why don’t you fill our viewers in on what exactly you’ve discovered, Congressman Malfoy?”** _

_**“Of course. This week, the House of Representatives is voting on the 12 bills that would fund the government through September 30 of 2019. Unfortunately, we’re left in a bad spot as we have only passed stopgap funding measures since October 1 of last year, when we were supposed to pass a bill to fund the entire fiscal year and keep the government running. Now the clock is running out before this short-term measure, or continuing resolution, expires on July 9.** _

_**“Due to indulgent personal spending measures hidden in these funding bills by Democratic authors, it looks like the government might shut down in addition to us not passing fiscal year 2019 funding, which is very literally the role of the Congress.”** _

_**“What a way with words you have, Congressman. I’m sure our viewers found that very helpful. Now, tell us more about these spending measures Speaker Dumbledore and his band of miscreants have tried to hide from the American people.”** _

_**“I don’t know if I’d go that far, Rita, but I was appalled to find pet projects, or earmarks, for Democrats’ districts as we went through the bill. What is curious to my staff and I, or especially shameful, if you will, is that many of these spending measures included are set to go to districts that Democrats are worried about losing in the upcoming midterm elections.** _

_**“That includes millions in projects for Congressman Alastor Moody’s Arizona district, Congresswoman Dorcas Meadowes’ Illinois district, and Congresswoman Aurora Sinistra’s Texas district, not to mention funds for Speaker Dumbledore and his leadership team’s districts as well. The fact that Speaker Dumbledore tried to sneak these unnecessary expenditures in, as though funding a Boston Red Sox museum is as critical as providing much-needed funding to serve the veteran community in my hometown of Charlotte and around the country, is just sickening. It’s a gut punch to the American taxpayer who elected us to steward their hard-earned dollars well.”** _

_**“Oh, it is… This surprises none of our loyal viewers; we continue to provide updates on Dumbledore’s malfeasance and potentially criminal behavior. What now, congressman? How will we fund the government and hold the dirty dems accountable?”** _

_**“Again, ma’am, I don’t know if I’d cast stones at my colleagues on the other side of the aisle so quickly. Overspending is not partisan, and I’m highly certain members of my own party would do the same if we were in the House majority right now. I’m pleased to share that I’ll be meeting with a delegation of bipartisan members tomorrow afternoon to discuss a way forward. This will include a diverse cross-section of members, including those who serve on the appropriations committee and in Republican and Democratic leadership positions.”** _

_**“You heard it here first on How Rita Reads It, Congressman Draco Malfoy has formed a bipartisan coalition to try and fund the government while the clock continues to tick down and many are worried about what’s to come. Thank you for your time tonight, Congressman Malfoy. Please update us tomorrow on how your very critical meeting goes. The country is depending on your leadership.”** _

_**Draco smiled, “Of course, Rita. Thank you for having me.”** _

Pansy shut the TV off.

“He’s good,” Pansy said into the silence of the room.

“I could tell he doesn’t like Rita Skeeter,” Hermione offered. “He blinks his left eye before his right when he’s annoyed instead of closing them at the same time.”

“Weird. You need to go to sleep. You washed your hair last night, right?”

“Yes, mom.” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

“Just go to bed, I’ll come pick out your outfit while you’re getting comfy cozy.”

“What would Theo say if he knew you were such a mother hen?”

Pansy let out a bark of surprised laughter, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulder and pressing a sisterly kiss to her cheek.

“He’d cream his pants. Boys like that? His mother’s a total bitch, he practically floated back to his desk today after I told him to leave me alone.”

“There’s... a lot to unpack there.”

“Correct,” Pansy agreed. “That’s why we’re going to let our cute little love story build up for a bit until I’m ready to dig into his boxes.”

“And let him into yours,” Hermione piped up.

Pansy sighed. “And let him into mine. Brush your teeth, let’s go!”

Hermione fell asleep to Pansy’s gentle jibes about the sad state of her closet, knowing that her alarm would come far too soon the next morning.

xxx

Hermione’s 6:57am alarm felt like a punch in the face, not that she’d ever taken one, but it’s what she expected it felt like.

She woke up to a text from Draco, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. The man worked out at the Capitol Hill Orangetheory at 6 or 7am every morning depending on his schedule, and had gotten into the habit of texting her hello.

It was just… this morning, she didn’t quite want to talk to him just yet. Not when she could build up a false feeling of okayness that she certainly wouldn’t feel until they talked again.

**Draco: Good morning, sweet girl. I hope you slept well. Please answer the door when someone rings.**

Pansy yelled something unintelligible, clearly back and showered after her 5:30am Pure Barre class she tried to pay for Hermione to take with her. Not that Hermione would ever let her friend pay an extra $200 a month just so she didn’t have to work out alone; nothing sounded more absurd.

She trudged out of bed, making it dutifully before walking down the stairs in her pajamas.

“Girl,” Pansy called in a tone that was far too happy for the early hour.

“Hm?” Hermione groaned, sliding into the kitchen on her fuzzy socks.

“Your first apology present has arrived, and I have to say I’m a fan.”

“What?” Hermione asked, looking up at the counter.

“Your man bought us Bullfrog Bagels and Starbucks,” she smiled, body wrapped in a fuzzy emerald green robe and hair in a similarly colored towel as she dug through the bags. “And a frap for you and tea for me. I had no idea why Theo asked for my drink of choice last night, but here we are.”

Draco had sent a spread of half a dozen bagels and two types of cream cheese. Why was he always so thoughtful?

She voiced the thought and got a snort from Pansy who was loading up an everything bagel with veggie cream cheese.

“He’s your sugar daddy, he likes knowing you’re fed and happy. Especially when he’s the one making it happen.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbing a plain bagel and smearing on scallion cream cheese. Draco clearly remembered an obscure conversation they’d had where she brought up the merits of the green cream cheese, and not only that, but that Bullfrog Bagel had the heartiest scallions in its concoction of any DC bagel shop; it warmed her heart in a way that left it impossible to truly be mad at him.

“Oh, it’s a real thing, Hermione. And it’s your life. Draco Malfoy is rich as blazes, and he is your sugar daddy. Maybe just your daddy, honestly, Lord knows you have enough issues on that front.”

Hermione shot Pansy a hurt look at the low blow.

Pansy, for her part, looked guilty. “Ugh, I’m sorry, that was mean. Sometimes the words just slip out. But really… he clearly likes you a lot and knows how to treat his woman and her sister. Just text him thank you and let him know what you want for lunch.”

“It’s fine, you’re right,” Hermione replied. Not that he knows the extent of her familial issues, she thought to herself. It still was nowhere near the right time for that conversation.

**Hermione: Thank you :) I can’t believe you remembered the scallion cream cheese…**

She sent a photo of her uneaten bagel and frap, scallions clearly visible in the white cream cheese.

**Draco: I’m so happy everything came, it’s the least I could do. The CC looks perfectly scallion-filled, if you’re into that sort of thing.**

**Hermione: Can confirm, I’m definitely into that sort of thing :) I’ll see you later.**

**Draco: What do you want for lunch? You’re not getting out of this.**

**Hermione: You and your food. So, Remus and I were the only ones in my office yesterday, everyone who didn’t already have off was ‘sick’ which is very convenient on July 5. Let me see how many people show up today before I decide, if that’s okay?**

**Draco: Whatever you need, sweetheart. Just let me know before 10am so I can have someone order.**

**Hermione: If that someone’s Pansy, make sure you explain how a tip works. She normally just adds $100 if she’s on the phone and someone is nice to her.**

**Draco: That’s why I hired her; good instincts.**

**Hermione: [Robert Downey Jr. eye roll gif]**

**Hermione: Rich people these days.**

xxx

“Congressman Potter’s office, this is Hermione,” she answered, picking up on the first ring when she saw it was Draco’s office on the other line.

“Hey girl,” Pansy said, causing Hermione to smile as she thought about the way her friend would answer phones when evil constituents called. Hopefully their staff assistant would do that.

“Hi there,” Hermione replied.

“So, lunch? Draco said to call and speak to your chief about lunch for your team and to make it a surprise. So act like you don’t know anything. Still want Cava Mezze, right?”

“Yes, please,” Hermione confirmed. “Figured that's the easiest option.”

“Got it, sis. Now patch me through to your chief.”

“Yes ma’am,” Hermione smiled, clicking it through and waiting for Remus to answer. “Hi Remus, I have Congressman Malfoy’s scheduler hoping to speak about today’s lunch meeting?”

“Patch her through, thanks,” the man replied, sounding just as tired as he looked, which was pretty raggedy.

xxx

“Hermione, have a moment?” Remus asked from his desk in the way that meant he wanted her to drop everything and come to his back office. So she did.

“Yes, sir?” she asked, resorting to formality as she often did in the face of pressure and uncertainty.

“You may have seen on the schedule, but James has a meeting with a bipartisan delegation over in HVC-201 at 3pm. Do you mind heading over and ensuring everything looks okay about 20 minutes before and then welcoming members in? I’ll be walking over with James and sitting in on the meeting. I’ll make sure you have a list of who all will be there.”

“Of course, sir.” Hermione replied, trying to hide her glee at being chosen for the task over Lee, who technically should’ve been entrusted with the responsibility.

He and Tonks had actually shown up for work today, and then spent the morning bitching about the audacity of Draco Malfoy sending them lunch. She was ready to throttle the pair.

“I knew I could count on you,” he smiled and nodded. “James was impressed with your ability to keep up yesterday and maintain composure; keep up the good work. Don’t forget that Rep. Malfoy will be in for a private meeting with James at 12:15.”

“Thank you sir, I appreciate the kind words from both of you,” she tried not to look overeager at the praise, but it meant the world to her to be recognized in an environment that felt like a constant grind with no reward.

She was on a high when Draco walked in with an attractive brunette man who had a black wedding band glinting on his finger from where he was tightly gripping paper bags she knew to be filled with food.

“Good afternoon, sirs,” Hermione smiled, changing her greeting now that it was past 12pm.

“Miss Granger, pleasure to see you.” Draco smiled. “This is my legislative director, Adrian Pucey. Adrian, this is the keen eyed photographer who took the framed photo of Congressman Potter and I, Hermione Granger.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” the man replied in an extremely thick accent that had to be from rural North Carolina.

“You as well, Adrian,” she replied warmly and stood up. “Let me inform my boss that you’re here, one moment please. Feel free to take a seat.”

“Take your time,” Draco replied easily, moving to look at the plentiful framed photos that were hung up on all of the walls.

“Remus, Congressman Malfoy is here with his LD, Adrian Pucey.”

“Great,” Remus smiled, pulling on his glasses and grabbing his preferred yellow notepad and pen.

“Congressman, Adrian,” Remus smiled in a way that definitely didn’t look like he’d been cursing Draco’s life just 24 hours before, doing the weird clap handshake that men trying to look familiar with one another seemed to favor.

“Remus, pleasure to see you. I have food for your whole team, if there’s somewhere I can set it up.”

“You are far too kind,” Remus replied, leaving off the ‘you shouldn’t have’ that would normally fill the end of the statement, because they all knew… food was the least he could do when throwing one of his bipartisan allies under the bus without warning. “Hermione can set it up, would you two like to eat?”

“No, we ate an early lunch with my team,” Draco replied.

“Good enough, we’ll head in and knock James off a call. Our scheduler’s out, so I’m doing a bit of tag-in here. Hermione, if you’ll save me a plate and just put together one for James and bring it in.”

“Of course,” she replied, nodding at a fond-looking Draco before turning around and heading to set the food up on the meeting table in the back office.

“What’d he get us?” Lee asked greedily.

“Ugh, I almost hoped it would suck so I could hate tweet,” Tonks replied.

“Tonks,” Hermione admonished without thinking, forgetting the girl was technically her superior.

“What? JP isn’t mentioned anywhere on my Twitter account.”

Hermione didn’t dignify that with a reply, only loading up plates for both her and Remus with pita, grilled chicken, salad and dips. She put even more food on James’ plate, knowing the man’s penchant to eat like he hadn’t in weeks.

She was pleased to see, as always, that Draco had gone all out. Whether it was Pansy or the man himself ordering, she knew that this was an ode to their care for her and felt warm the entire time she ate.

Draco shot her a wink when she brought her boss food that had her face warming up. The man was far too smooth, she didn’t know how she’d remain angry at him.

xxx

“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?”

Hermione jumped at the sound of Draco’s voice behind her, turning to see him smirking.

“Draco! You scared me,” she breathed. She had been bent over, back to him, straightening the tablecloth of the refreshments table. No one from Capitol Host, the catering service used for most events in the Capitol, had been there when she arrived, but thankfully the food and drinks were there and her only problem was poorly ironed linens.

“What are you doing?”

She huffed, “The tablecloth isn’t ironed well, but no one from Capitol Host is here to switch it out!”

Draco looked back to the closed door before striding over to her. He stroked her cheek once, and every inch of her being wanted to melt into his touch.

“All anyone will notice is the spread of food and drinks, sweetheart, and that’s if they’re not glaring at me or praising me for blowing their weekend up.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “They’re not the only ones.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? James taking it out on y’all?”

“I told you, but no one showed up yesterday outside of Remus and I, and over half of our team is out of office until next week including our entire leg team. I’m just frustrated, honestly, but Remus and the congressman asked if I could oversee this and not our LC, so I guess it’s good for something.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Would you believe me if I told you it all happened so fast?”

She nodded. “I do, I’m not mad at you. I just think we need to talk because this isn’t the first or last time we’ll deal with something of a confidential blindside on my side or yours.”

Draco nodded, looking back before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Would it be too cute by half if I told you the only side I’m on is yours?”

That got a laugh out of Hermione. “It really, really would.”

“Well, I’m not taking it back, and I have the evidence to prove it. S.P.P.E.W. was in full swing for breakfast and lunch today, wasn’t it?”

“It really was, thank you,” she smiled, wishing she could pull him into a hug like they were middle schoolers sharing affection the only way they knew how.

“Anything for you and anything for the cause. Now, I’m going to wait by the door and welcome everyone in if you want to stand over by the food and help some very old men plate up some mediocre cookies and stay out of the crossfire. I’ll be sure to let them know who put this beautiful setup together.”

“Please don’t put this nightmare on me,,” Hermione groaned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco replied, straightening up at the sound of voices outside of the room and moving over towards the door after dropping his papers and pens at one of the tables that formed an open square.

Hermione was surprised that Remus didn’t kick her out after the pleasantries ended and the bipartisan meeting of members had started, instead nodding his head over at the wall where LDs and chiefs for the members present were sat.

Draco winked at her when she sat down in his eye line, a small, pleased smile on his face at seeing her in the room.

She wondered if anyone noticed that his eyes continued to stray to her; she certainly did.

“It sounds like there’s press outside,” Rep. Potter said as they closed, smiles on everyone’s faces in jubilation that they’d actually come to a quick agreement. Who would’ve thought? “I’m fine giving leadership the slip and speaking to them on our deal, Dumbledore will follow the votes.”

Hermione was surprised to hear her boss stepping out against party leadership like that; this meeting had certainly been illuminating.

“Same sentiment on my end,” Draco agreed, nodding at James who was sitting next to him like they were red and blue peas in a pod.

As if James hadn’t been cursing the man’s existence yesterday; how did things move so fast from hell in a handbasket to hell yes and a handshake?

Hermione felt like she had suffered whiplash.

The meeting adjourned with most members just standing up to talk to their staff while they waited for Draco and James to lead them out of the room.

Draco walked halfway to meet Adrian while Hermione moved to start cleaning up the tables since Members of Congress seemed unable to throw their trash away. Would Americans elect these people to office if they knew their inability to execute general niceties their parents had taught them at age two?

She did happily note, however, that Draco made a point to throw his empty paper cup away after he’d finished his tea. He was a good one.

“You’ll come over tonight?” Draco asked quietly as he came up next to Hermione, pretending to reorganize his papers. She nodded even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to or would be able to, not looking up. It felt like an illicit thing, talking where everyone could hear.

She was helpless but to watch as Draco strode out of the room, the cries of ‘Congressman Malfoy’ filling the air as the press saw the man who’d both set the fire and seemingly poured it out come into the hallway.

Yeah, she thought as she saw his smile out of the corner of her eye as he shared the good news. She’d move mountains to get to spend time with him tonight.

xxx

“I haven’t done this in years,” Draco smiled, hair blowing lightly in the summer air.

She was surprised to find out that he had a 2018 Mercedes Benz GT, which was nothing more than a very nice black convertible to her uncultured self and something he waved off as his DC car. It was clearly expensive, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. All that mattered is that they were at the Mcdonald’s drive-thru.

“Same,” she replied, equally giddy. “My mom and I always used to go when I was in elementary school, just for m&m McFlurries and fries.”

“I don’t know if my mother’s ever seen a Mcdonald’s in her life,” Draco laughed. “My grandfather told me that the M stood for Malfoy when I was little, and that the sign was yellow to match our hair. I didn’t know he was lying until third grade.”

Hermione couldn’t help but guffaw at that. “Third grade? It took you that long?”

“You’re undercutting my grandfather’s lying skills with your insinuation.”

“Or it’s just that you’re gullible.”

“Both can be true,” Draco smiled, turning to face the woman manning the second window as she handed them Mcflurries and two bags full of food.

“You ordered way too much,” Hermione shook her head, taking a gloriously hot and crisp fry out of the bag and holding it up to Draco’s mouth in the same way she’d always do for her mom without a thought.

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he opened his mouth and moaned at the taste of the hot fry.

“God put a lot of effort into Mcdonald’s fries,” Draco said, opening his mouth again like a baby bird. Hermione popped another into his mouth.

“You’re not wrong,” she replied. “I think about that sometimes, what God thought we’d find to be the most special parts of creation.”

“That’s a good question,” Draco said, ever the gentleman as he chewed and swallowed before speaking. “I’d have to go with dogs.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked. “You’re a dog guy?”

“Dogs, cats, I’m an equal opportunity pet lover, but I just think the variety in dog breeds is special and required a lot of effort on God’s part. I mean… have you seen chihuahuas?”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile fondly, looking like a woman in love to the people in the car next to them as they hit a red light. How she’d dreamed of this sort of relationship, driving down Pennsylvania Avenue with the top down, the Capitol shining brightly in the night sky ahead of them.

“I have seen chihuahuas,” she replied just as playfully. “We never had pets growing up, so I’d always insist on keeping my dogs on my laps and in my sleeping bag when I slept at friends’ houses. I was that friend.”

“We had three golden retrievers growing up, but purchasing a dog is gauche these days, so my father’s parents adopted two dogs last year. My mother’s parents have at least ten dogs, but they live on an extremely large farm outside of Charlotte.”

“I think that might be the most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” her face turned red as she realized what she’d blurted out.

Draco just raised a questioning eyebrow, blinkers on as he waited to turn left onto the sidestreet that’d lead to his home.

“The entire system of puppy mills and breeders that have led to the pet trade is barbaric and cruel. Most people choose to tune the facts out so that they don’t feel bad about buying a puppy instead of going to a shelter.”

“Not the Malfoys,” he shook his head. “Unfortunately, North Carolina has a lot of dogs and cats that need homes, so we have more rescues than most states.”

“I’d love to see any and all of your family’s dogs,” she smiled as Draco promised to show her photos.

Her stomach was rumbling as she pulled up to Draco’s, amused by the way he told her to wait in the car and rushed around it to open the door for her.

“Is this a southern hospitality move?”

“It’s called taking care of my lady,” Draco replied, helping Hermione out of the car as though it wasn’t low to the ground and he wasn’t holding food and frozen drinks in his hand.

“You’re far too smooth to be real.”

“Mother and father would be pleased to hear your rave review.”

“5/5 would recommend,” Hermione replied drily.

“You’re in a fun mood tonight,” Draco noted.

“Delirious exhaustion will do that to you.”

“Before we get into that,” Draco replied, grabbing two plates and digging in his fridge for a large bottle of Heinz ketchup. “Promise not to judge my copious ketchup use?”

“Promise. It’s refreshing to know you engage in something so plebeian.”

Draco snorted before covering his mouth, looking far too handsome in his embarrassment. “I can’t say I’ve ever made that noise before.”

“No one thinks I’m funny, so I’m honored,” she smiled, squirting far less ketchup than Draco on her plate, but sprinkling on far more salt.

They settled on the couch, and Hermione knew that despite the spontaneous excursion, there were serious topics they needed to dive into. When their conversation about condiments died a few moments later, she knew what was coming.

“I’m not a man who skirts tough conversations,” Draco started. “So I’ll always be honest and would ask you to do the same.”

“Of course.”

“There will be information I can’t share with you regarding work, and I know you’ll encounter the same. I’ll be honest, Hermione, I can’t relitigate the bounds of our relationship every time something like this week happens. It’s just par for the course that we’re on, and I don’t know how to make that sound any less harsh.”

Hermione chewed thoughtfully.

“I’m not really one for nuance, so I’ll take you at your word when you asked for honesty. I was really upset yesterday, Draco. I don’t think that there was a way to separate you specifically calling out my boss from the impacts of that on myself, but at the end of the day, I do understand why you did it. And I understand that our relationship is nowhere near a place where I can expect anything different. So I think the best I can say specifically is that I understand why you did what you did…”

Draco nodded. “I think that we’ll find ourselves coming to an understanding rather than an agreement on a lot. Have you dated men with different political beliefs before?”

Rats.

“I’ve never actually been in a relationship,” she said quietly, wondering why she was so close to tears at the admission. It wasn’t like she was embarrassed or upset by the fact that she’d focused on her studies and retaining her scholarships throughout college. “So this is all very new and… a bit scary to me, Draco.”

She let out a sigh as Draco took her hand into his own and kissed her knuckles, like he was a fairytale prince.

“That makes it a little harder, but all in all, the newness might make it far easier. Preconceived notions are a hell of a mental stumbling block for most people.”

She looked up, knowing her eyes were slightly teary.

“You’re not mad?”

Draco’s smile was a gentle, sweet expression that could likely end wars.

“There’s nothing to be mad at, Hermione. This relationship won’t be without its challenges, by its nature and by the newness of it for you. But if I’m honest, the idea of being the first man to ever date you makes me feel like some sort of caveman.”

Hermione laughed, taking their clasped hands and sandwiching them between her shoulder and cheek.

“I was scared you’d be turned off, knowing I’ve never been with anyone,” she said, leaning into the honesty of the moment.

Draco’s eyes widened momentarily.

“Can you explain what you mean, Hermione?”

“I kissed a few guys in high school and college, but nothing more. It was just never in the cards for me, I don’t think.”

Draco’s eyes closed for a moment, as though he were trying to steel himself.

“Me callin’ you my good girl just took on a whole new meeting,” Draco smiled, when he opened his eyes. “I’ve already said it, and I mean it. Your consent is important to me, Hermione. And that’s in everything. Emotionally, physically, professionally… we are walking along an unpaved path, so it’s up to us to call the shots. Okay?”

Hermione nodded, feeling a weight lift off her chest at Draco’s easy acceptance of her. How was this so simple, for him to just take her as she was?

“Yes, Draco,” she agreed easily, and he let out a small noise as she did. “And… I think that we very much need to have a conversation about our beliefs. Maybe we can sit down on tomorrow after votes? I’m assuming you’re staying the weekend.”

Draco smiled, a small, crooked little thing.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just… reminded me of a conversation I tried to start a long time ago,” he replied.

“An ex?” she asked, realizing she didn’t feel territorial about the past women in Draco’s life. Not yet, at least.

Clearly, that showed on her face because he nodded.

“Yes, an ex, back in my 20s. She laughed when I told her I wanted to have a formal discussion on our beliefs, so I retreated. Is it any surprise what blew our relationship up?”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s important. I’d much rather find out that the hill you die on is passing a constitutional amendment to ban women from public service now than six months from now.”

Draco laughed. “That’s very specific, but I’m happy to share that I believe women in service make our government better and more rational.”

Hermione smiled at him. “See? Checking off boxes already… but in all seriousness, I think it’s important to talk things through, even if the conversation feels weird.”

“Much agreed, my smart girl. I’ll stay here through the weekend since we have votes Monday. We can order the fancy Chinese I was telling you about.”

“Sounds good,” she smiled, trying not to think about how long the day was going to be. Knowing Draco was at the end of it made the concept of working on a Saturday a bit easier to swallow, though.

He pulled her onto his lap, clearly dictating the end of their serious conversation. It worked out well for Hermione, finally being able to melt into Draco the way that she had wanted to for the past two days.

He kissed her like he knew her intimately, and at this point, she was pretty sure he did in so many of the ways that counted.

Their kiss was at first, until she shifted and swung one leg over his lap so that she was straddling him. There was something about being close to him that made it all the more intimate, had her feeling more certain of her very unpracticed movements.

Draco let out a soft groan, using one hand to gently grip her curls and the other to hold her lower back. His hand had a grip on her dress and tights, as though he needed to be anchored down. She couldn’t say she didn’t understand the feeling; the position left her feeling like the kiss could turn into something more for the first time, and she knew Draco was waiting for her to make any and all moves.

Unsure of what to do next, she continued kissing him, moving a hand into his hair to hopefully prod him along. What was next in this sequence of events? From the movies she’d seen and conversations she’d had with Pansy, the choose-your-own-sexual-adventure could veer off in many directions. She was curious to see what Draco would choose.

As though realizing that she was egging him on, Draco slid his hand down to her bum and squeezed.

Even with her dress and tights, the move had her letting out a gasp into the kiss, pleasurable tingles erupting all over her. Were butts even supposed to be sexy? She’d have to ask Pansy after a few glasses of wine, knowing the girl was far more reputable than the internet.

“Okay?” Draco asked gruffly, not removing his wandering hand but pulling back from the kiss to ask.

Hermione nodded, not sure what noise would come out of her mouth if she were to open it. Something very embarrassing and likely pathetic, she knew.

That, however, seemed to be part of Draco’s plan as he kissed down her throat, moving his other hand to her butt and leaving her helpless but to exhale breathy whimpers. She’d never intently watched porn, only witnessed it through half closed eyes at sleepovers, but she definitely felt like the world’s most buttoned-up pornstar at the moment as she rolled her hips into Draco’s.

“So perfect,” Draco groaned, pressing warm, open mouthed kisses on her neck.

“Feels good,” she whimpered despite herself, not sure whether it was better to push back into Draco’s hands to feel the warmness of his large paws on her or continue her hip rolls forward against his thighs.

As though he could sense the tension in her body at the indecision of how to move forward, Draco’s hands moved under her armpits. The man quickly stood up with her in his arms, which had her letting out a nervous squeak, and he sat back down once he was satisfied with the way he’d maneuvered her. Was he really that strong?

“My baby,” Draco cooed with a smile, now holding her like she was a child, cradled all up in his arms as he sat back down on the couch. She wished she wasn’t in her work outfit, so she could truly enjoy the intimacy that came with such a tender touch.

Hermione let out a snort, but pushed her head against his shoulder. “I always thought I hated being touched before, but you have me second guessing that.”

“Maybe I have a magic touch,” Draco replied, jolting her body with his shrugging shoulders.

“Hm… you may be onto something here.”

Draco sat her up in his arms after a few moments of peaceful silence.

“Was that okay?”

Hermione blushed at the thought of what’d just happened, though realistically she knew it to be nothing on the scale of what most people did in their relationships.

“I like kissing you,” she replied quietly.

Draco smiled brilliantly at that, pecking her lips. “I do too… it’s hard to remember not to kiss you at work.”

The thought of that egregious slipup had her laughing.

“I think that would be awful and you might give my boss a heart attack.”

“Unfortunately, at the moment... I can’t say you’re wrong.”

What he left unsaid was that one day, maybe there would be a chance for them to step outside of the confines of Draco’s home.

The day had proven that there were very real obstacles in their way, but hell if Hermione wasn’t willing to push forward. Because at the moment, lying in Draco’s arms, it felt like there was nothing to lose but each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think, your comments keep me going.
> 
> also find me at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for your love. Happy Sunday to all! 
> 
> Helpful links for this plot-heavy chapter in the end notes.
> 
> Kingsleycare = this fic's version of Obamacare / the Affordable Care Act
> 
> POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of abortion and general LGBTQ discrimination ahead in a conversation about political views. Just a few sentences of Draco and Hermione sharing their beliefs.

Saturday, July 7, 2018

“What’s this?” Hermione asked.

“I figured you wouldn’t bring extra clothes to work today, but I didn't want you to have to stay in your dress while we talked.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, grabbing the sweats that Draco had neatly folded clearly left on the counter before he left. He was thoughtful to the point of danger, honestly. For her melting heart if nothing else.

“What took so long? Votes ended over an hour ago.”

Didn't she know it.

“Tonks wanted me to look over her press release before she sent it after the last of the bills passed today. James had a ton of edits on the release and added a note to the section on defense appropriations that just said 'add local flavor here,' so she was panicking a bit.”

“She doesn’t seem very competent,” Draco noted. “Maybe you should take her job.”

Hermione looked back with an eye roll as she stepped into his bathroom to change out of her clothes. “Never. Ever. And Tonks is fine, just a bit scatterbrained and unorganized.”

“From my experience, your boss is basically the same, so maybe his press person should be a bit more put-together.”

“That’s what Remus is for!” Hermione called back as she pulled on Draco’s large, blue t-shirt that declared her a Tar Heel for the world to see. It was silky soft, as were the sweat shorts that he’d given her. The man was rather thin, but she still had to roll the pants a ton to make them fit her 5’2 frame.

“Good?” Draco asked.

“Way better,” Hermione smiled, dropping her neatly folded dress and tights into her Kate Spade bag. “Every time I take my tights off I feel like a new woman.”

“Women are champions for wearing those every day, especially in the summer. I can’t imagine.”

“You get used to sweaty thighs after a while."

“So I figured we can have a bit of an open forum here,” Draco smiled as they headed to the family room, lying down on the long part of the couch that was clearly his favorite. “Ask what you want, and I’ll do the same. Ladies first, of course.”

She saw that he’d already brought two glasses of water and a bowl of grapes into the room and placed them on the table in front of them; the man really was thoughtful.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Of course. Was there ever a point where you questioned your parents’ beliefs?”

“Absolutely,” Draco nodded. “I remember being nine and having a girl come up to me on the playground to ask why my family didn’t want her dads to be together. Looking back, I understand that her parents were probably just cursing the uber-conservative Malfoys as anti-gay, but it hurt. I was confused, and remember my mother telling me that she would let father explain when I was home. Which he did, but that didn’t really change much in the way of being judged by children for actions that weren’t my own.

“As a general statement, my father is far more rigid in his beliefs than I am, which is why I think the Senate suits him so well. He can take hard votes without really having to think twice since he has a six year term. People like to lump us all together, but grandfather, father and I are very different."

Hermione jumped in with a followup before Draco could ask her a question.

“Why do you consider yourself a conservative?”

Draco held up a hand, “Well first, I don’t consider myself a conservative, I consider myself a republican. I believe that the government messes up more than it fixes with shameful bureaucratic slog, the constant misuse of federally appropriated funds, and spending money that we don’t even have to rack up trillions of dollars owed. Generally, I am a believer in supply side economics…”

“Socially?”

Draco nodded. “I believe that people have the right to love who they love… the Supreme Court has spoken, gay marriage is the law of the land. But I believe in the religious freedom of churches when it comes to allowing couples to be married in their church.

“The right to bear arms is as American as anything, and I believe that adults who pass stringent background checks should be able to own weapons to protect their homes.

“Let’s see… What am I missing?”

“Immigration. Abortion. Health care.” Hermione was mentally taking notes of everything she wanted to say, doing her best not to burst.

“Bringing it back to bureaucratic slog and inefficacy, there is a very real need for seasonal immigrants to help out on our farms and in our fields all across the country, but these people are held up in the same queue as everyone else. Immigrants who have skills we need should be prioritized, but there should also be room for conversation on granting asylum, especially for children and vulnerable populations.

“Abortions are legal in North Carolina, and we have Planned Parenthoods that perform the procedure in my district. My heart says that abortions should not be legal; it’s anti-biblical, it’s murder. But logically, I know the real struggles that women who receive abortions face and taking a safe mechanism for the procedure away will do nothing but cause people to suffer. 

“So the long and short of it is that we need to work on a micro-level to support our communities and local governments so they can provide sexual education to young people and resources to those having kids, be it well-funded adoption centers or childcare. 

“When it comes down to it, I will vote in support of any abortion bill on the House Floor that involves banning the procedure when there is a hearbeat. Yes, near-total abortion bans are draconian and do more harm than good for public health, but I will vote for the protection of life at the end of the day if it’s a partial measure.

“What else… health care. Kingsleycare is an overreach of Congress’ constitutional powers and completely undermines the role of states in providing health care to its residents. I believe we can do better, and that involves abolishing the Affordable Care Act and putting the power back into the hands of states. 

“Premiums will go down and then we can have funds to increase Medicaid and Medicare pools for those who actually need it, rather than relying on health individuals to pay the way of everyone. It’s incredibly short-sighted as the American population grows older and sicker, even though dems have branded it as increasing access to care for all people.”

“It’s like you do this for a living or something,” Hermione smiled absently, thinking through everything Draco said as he took a long sip of water. “What about assault weapons?”

“They shouldn’t be publicly available, but Democrats flailing around in front of microphones screaming about going into people’s homes to take them away does nothing but drive people to the right. And to the stores to buy more guns, actually. Automatic firearms are weapons of war, and Congress can and should pass a law banning them from public sale.”

Hermione felt the knot in her chest loosen at Draco’s answers. She knew his voting record was more conservative, but it wasn’t radical; and he wasn’t a member who was always in the news or blasted on Twitter for his ridiculous comments. This made the path forward far more clear, so far at least, than when she’d been up late last night thinking about how it would go.

“What personal positions of yours differ from the way you feel you need to vote to please your district?”

Draco let out a breath, “That’s a good question. I’d say most Dem-led environmental bills have poison pills in them for the people of North Carolina that I can’t have on my record. Our state has eight military bases, so anything defense related, no matter the exorbitant cost and my personal opposition to running up the deficit, will be a yes vote on my part. Those two are top of mind.”

“Isn’t it a bit hypocritical to spend over $700 billion on the military, but shove everything else off as the responsibility of states and the free market?”

Draco looked more amused than annoyed at her questioning, Hermione discovered. She’d weighed the best way to handle the conversation, and found out that her plan to listen to Draco without any immediate pushback wasn’t working. Her mouth didn’t seem to want to follow along with the agenda.

“You’ll have to remember that our defense budget includes funding for the VA and veterans’ health care, which continues to skyrocket.”

Hermione interjected, “Due to the number of troops coming home injured and in need of physical and mental assistance, mind you.”

“Not wrong, but our historic role in peacekeeping doesn’t just allow us to slash a budget and magically send troops hope. We have treaties to fulfill and strategic interests in other nations overseas.”

“Don’t you find it a bit concerning that our entire nation’s identity is based on being superior to others?”

“The United States is superior to all other nations.”

“Then why can’t we show that in more than just pomp and circumstance and foreign intervention? Why can’t we just have the mind to say that nations can resolve their own problems? Why did we need to involve ourselves as the gatekeepers of free maritime trade? Why are we the sole defenders of Taiwan's freedom?”

“These are all important questions, but they’re all guided by historic precedent. If we pulled ourselves out of everywhere that we have troops or established our authority, the world might very well crumble.”

“It’s just ridiculous. We raise our children up to think that dying for a conflict their great grandfathers thought it would be good to enter into is valiant. There’s no valiance or bravery in starting and propagating meaningless wars.”

“I’m not inclined to disagree with you, Hermione, but unfortunately this is where we are. The United States is a central figure in maintaining international peace, and that isn’t going to change. So the best thing Congress can do is send our troops off to war prepared with the training and equipment necessary to survive and fulfill their missions and ensure our national security and intelligence experts remain first class.”

“What a copout,” Hermione replied, unable to not roll her eyes.

“Democrats shoot themselves in the foot by pretending to fight the ubiquitous nature of the United States military then voting to pass over $700 billion in funding through the NDAA every year. If we presented a bipartisan front, we might be able to actually knock heads and withdraw American troops from some regions by investing in other militaries,” Draco shrugged.

Hermione nodded. “I guess that makes sense, it is a bit hypocritical.”

“Just a bit,” Draco smiled gently. “My turn?”

“Have at it.”

“What are your immovable positions?”

That was easy. “Anything that stabs at the dignity and autonomy of others. The right for people’s marriages to be recognized by the government and receive the benefits that come with a legal covenant. Women’s abilities to govern their own bodies.”

Draco cut in, “Do you consider religious freedom to be the autonomy of others?”

Hermione cocked her head, “I think the invisible line between bigotry and the wielding of your religious beliefs is far too blurred to ever become clear.”

“So what does that mean? How did you react to the Supreme Court’s cake shop decision?”

“Well, the case wasn’t truly a ruling on freedom of speech or free exercise of religion, but I was sad. I don’t think I really have an eloquent thought on it. I’m frustrated that people would be willing to turn someone away when they are hoping to celebrate an extremely happy occasion and provide them business. But I also know that there are ways I adhere to my faith privately that others would find fault with too.”

“That’s a perfectly political non-answer and much more subdued than I’d expect from you, my sweet spitfire,” Draco laughed.

“My job has really shown me the beauty in humility,” Hermione smiled wryly. “One of my earliest memories is catechism class when I was six or so, and I just remember the word HUMBLE being written by Mr. Jack on the board. He was annoyed because I kept asking for specific examples on what humility means rather than a biblical explanation of it, but he couldn’t give me any.

“Now that I’m here… I think that Congress as an institution could be a bit more humble. If we didn’t come to the table with our hackles raised thinking that we already know everything, couldn’t we work in that empty space to find compromise?”

“We could, but I don’t know if your mature and hopeful thinking will ever truly take root in a body of mostly privileged individuals who have grown up thinking they’re God’s gift to men,” Draco replied honestly.

Hermione frowned. “What is the point of working for a body and suffering through a governmental process that you seem fairly cynical of?”

“That’s a fair question that I’ll have to give you my politicky answer for, because it’s one I truly mean. I believe in the goodness of people, and I believe that we should work for a future that harnesses our ingenuity and optimism. I really do believe that America is the best country of the world; you’re not going to find me in American flag cargo shorts, but I will defend the merits of our nation. Public service is something that I was raised to believe in as a sacrificial service for my neighbors.

“It’s hard to explain until you see it, which I’m sure you will when you’re back in Seattle with James right before the election. My childhood was spent waving to crowds then watching people cry and crumble as they thanked my father and grandfather for their work or scream and point fingers in their faces for what they voted for or against. People are always going to be angry at what you do and will always wish you did more. That’s just a fact that I have to come to terms with every single time someone asks why I couldn’t get Dumbledore to take a bill to help veterans up on the floor or why I voted against an environmental bill that was severely flawed, but could’ve helped their small business.

“You’ve already alluded to it, Hermione, but most people have only a basic understanding of politics. To most Americans, red is good and blue is bad or vice versa. Malfoys are either politicians ordained by God or crooks that should be tossed in prison. As much as I’d like to sometimes, I can’t get back in someone’s face and tell them that they don’t understand the intricacies of political negotiation. So I’ve become content with the fact that no one will agree with me on anything, and my role is simply to serve as the voice of my district.”

“You make it sound really easy,” Hermione sighed, wishing that Draco was closer than a few inches apart from her. “My temper gets the best of me on some of these calls, people just want to complain and blame someone for their problems, even if Congressman Potter isn’t their Member of Congress.”

“Not to play the age card, but… that will come with time. Even when hiring staff, something that I look at is someone’s seasonality. Have they lived through serving in the majority and minority? Have they worked in Congress during a presidential administration of a different party? All of those factors and experiences will provide you with more of a mental shield to the calls and conversations that get to you now. So… if I look heartless to you, know that I’m not. It’s just a defensive system that we all need so we don’t lose our minds working in this city.”

“I wish I had that now,” Hermione replied. 

“It’ll come with time, sweetheart. I promise you. Any other worries that you want to get out there?”

“There are many,” she smiled, drawing a warm laugh out of Draco. Why was he so far away? “Honestly, I just worry a bit that you’ll find me immature or emotional because this is all so new to me.”

Draco pulled her hand onto his lap and covered it with his own, as though he needed she needed his reassurance. Honestly, he probably did; he had the uncanny ability to read her fluctuating emotions so far. Hermione scooched a little closer to him so her arm wasn’t stretched uncomfortably before Draco spoke up again.

“And I worry that you’ll find me jaded or old-fashioned,” Draco replied, his smile a weak, wary thing. “This is not going to be easy or seamless. You always have towards a healthy relationship, but when I’m twice your age and the ethical lines are already this blurred? We’re in choppy waters.”

“So why did you do it? Talk to me?” she asked quietly, the question that’d been on her mind for weeks.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Draco replied. “I’m a man of great restraint. My friends think I’m far too cautious. And here we are… a sweet thing like you comes into my office, demanding an audience with me and I felt my defenses just break down. My worries are still there, Hermione. That isn’t going to change… it’s just that I believe you’re worth the fear and the potential ramifications that are a ways down the line.”

“What if your career is ruined?”

Draco let out a huff of laughter. “It would take far more to ruin my career than a relationship with a younger woman, I can promise you that. I’m more worried about the internal politics and judgements, but even those can be navigated with a well throughout plan. That’s a ways off, though, if it’s something you’ll even consider.”

“I feel comfortable with the pace we’re moving at,” Hermione agreed. “The past few weeks have been a bit of a self-discovery, you know? I’ve realized that not disclosing our relationship publicly doesn’t have me questioning how you feel about me. This is too new and your career is too important to be hasty. 

“So as long as you keep me apprised of, you know, when or if you feel that you don’t think this is going to work, I’m okay with following your lead. I just want you to be honest with me when it comes to us.”

“That’s good to know,” Draco nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I think you’re going to wish I was a bit less direct at times, but I’m not going to stop asking how you’re feeling and if you’re comfortable with how things are going. I’ve said it quite a few times already… your consent is important to me, and that means physical and emotional well-being and general comfortability with where we’re at. I know that keeping this quiet wouldn’t work for everyone, so I’m relieved that you are okay for the moment.”

“I will let you know when that changes,” Hermione let out a relieved giggle. “This was less painful than I thought it might be.”

“Oh yeah?” Thankfully, Draco looked amused and not offended. 

She was a bit glad that the public didn’t see this side of Draco, the indulgent, playful softie that he was. She’d be fighting everyone in America for him, republican and democrat, if they knew what was under his public mask.

“One hundred percent. Pansy made it sound like I was heading to war.”

“If we were both a little less genial, that may have been the case. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t have new hurdles to face moving forward.” Draco’s thumb continued to rub her hand, which was nothing less than comforting. “So, to confirm… nothing has you running for the hills?” 

She shook her head. 

“No, I think for me… it comes down to your respect for the inherent dignity of others. Do I have to worry about you storming up to a pair of men kissing at another table while we’re on a date? Do you spit on homeless people asking you for change? It’s… incredibly complicated, politics. So I’m trying to extend some grace to both you and myself throughout this, though I know that I’m still going to get mad at you and your voting record.”

Draco’s laugh confirmed what she was finding to be true; there was a real chance they could work through this rather than just patching holes as they appeared.

“I would certainly never treat someone poorly because of who they are, though I’m not foolish enough to believe others in my party wouldn’t. And I can’t tell you I’m not going to rib you for some of your beliefs and try to understand your arguments and preferences for certain policies I find ridiculous. All we can do is continue to get to know each other and go from there, if you’re willing.”

Hermione nodded. “I am… thank you, for making this feel as easy as it can.”

“The feeling there is mutual, sweetheart. Now… would you be averse to taking a nap?”

The laugh that bubbled up in her was one of joy and shock and a weird feeling of normalcy.

“I don’t think I’ve taken a nap since I was four,” she replied.

“Then c’mere and let me show you the beauty that a mid-afternoon snooze can bring into your life.”

“Sounds good,” she smiled.

It may have been a bit naive to think about how nice life with Draco was as she closed her eyes, his front pressed against her back as they laid on the couch, but there she was. For now, without overthinking it, life with Draco was a good one.

xxxx

Hermione woke up to a knee in her back, letting out a groan at the sharp kick.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Draco said, running a hand through her tangled hair as he leaned over her. “I need to take this call, just close your eyes.”

“Mother, how are you?”

Hermione’s eyes were wide open. How was she supposed to sleep through that?

“I’m well, just trying to rest after today’s votes. No, I had Blaise fly home and attend in my place, which they were pleased about. I figured I’d stay through the weekend and work on my stump speech since we vote next week.”

Draco’s hand continued to run through her hair, and Hermione hated the awkward way he was now laying down on his back instead of spooning. So as quietly as she could, she scooted up his body so that she was laying with her head on his chest and a leg possessively draped over both of his. 

Much better.

The man continued speaking to his mother, but his hand drifted down from her hair to her bum like it was no big thing, fingers dancing beneath the loose legs of the shorts.

“Dinner? Tonight?” Draco asked, voice tight. Hermione couldn’t feel shame at the way she pushed back against his hand, nuzzling her head happily against his chest as he kneaded her flesh in a way that had her more aroused than tired.

“No, mother, I can move my plans around,” Draco sighed.

Well, Hermione thought… looks like fancy Chinese wasn’t happening.

“I love you too. Yes, I can wear red. See you then.”

Draco dropped his phone on the floor before using his now free hand to pull Hermione up completely onto his body like she was his favorite life-sized teddy bear.

“You okay?” she asked, voice muffled in his chest as he squeezed her to him in a tight hug.

“Fine. Father’s back home, but mother had to stay for a heart disease dinner with some donors. He suggested she take me in his stead, so I’ll have to postpone our dinner. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hermione replied, turning her head to the side so she could breathe. “I’m sorry for you, I can’t imagine wanting to go schmooze after this week.”

“Part of the job, unfortunately,” Draco sighed. “It’s a lot easier when I know the crowd is full of my constituents or at least North Carolinians, but tonight I’m just dealing with rich Washingtonians.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Hermione said honestly, getting a kiss to her hair.

“At least it’s at the Ogden’s house rather than a hotel. That pretty much ensures the food will be edible rather than overcooked hotel chicken.”

“Small victories. Do you need to get ready?” she asked, sitting up so she was straddling him in a position that was reminiscent of last night. The thought made her blush.

She noticed that even though he was laying down with throw pillows supporting his head and neck, Draco had no chin rolls. The man was a marvel of modern men; who didn’t have chin rolls when they laid down?

“I do,” Draco frowned.

Hermione couldn’t stand the look on his face, and leaned forward to kiss him.

It was a short, tender kiss, but one that had him smiling fondly and caressing her cheek like she was something precious.

“I needed that,” Draco sighed. “I’m sorry about dinner.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been putting off seeing a friend for a while, so I think this might be reason enough to grab dinner with him.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at her sullen tone.

“I… have a weird friendship of sorts with Congressman Potter’s son, Harry. He’s obsessed with Pansy which is probably why he wants to see me, but I feel bad telling him no every time he asks to get together.”

“I know she’s your friend so I’m not going to say he has bad taste in chasing after her when he knows you, but…” Draco shrugged.

“That in itself is a long, horrific story for another time that involves a lot of wine. It’ll be fine. Text me how it goes?”

“Yes ma’am,” Draco replied. “I actually have something for you before you leave, it finally came in from North Carolina.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, standing up on shaky legs. “Let me change first.”

“No, sugar,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “Keep my clothes, okay? They look better on you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, eyes wide. She was in a very baggy shirt and shorts; there was nothing about it that was attractive outside of maybe just the concept of her in his clothes.

“If I had time I’d let you know just how good I think you look,” Draco smiled, all teeth. His large hands brushed from her shoulders down to her bum, causing a tingle to roll through her as he glanced over the tender sides of her breast. She could only fantasize about what would’ve come next if she didn’t have to leave.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“I’ll be right back, let me grab it from my office,” Draco replied, taking two steps at a time.

He came back with a brown mailing box that was already open, putting it onto the kitchen counter and pushing it towards her.

Inside was what looked to be everything she could ever need to keep her safe.

“Pepper spray,” Draco explained as she picked up the black plastic tube. “There are four canisters in there, I figured you could give one to Pansy. The gentleman I purchased from said it’ll spray up to 18 feet away.”

Everything else she was completely unfamiliar with.

“That’s a TASER, which means you don’t need to have direct contact with your attacker to take them down. I got one that’s innocuous looking, so you can take it into work with you.”

“Am I actually allowed to take it into the office?”

Draco made a motion with his hand. “No one will say anything since it looks like a flashlight and not a gun. Just shove it under your other belongings and don’t bring it into the main Capitol building, just the office buildings.”

“Draco!” Hermione laughed, putting the dangerous weapon down.

“Honestly, though, if anyone tries to confiscate it then I want you to call me.”

“You’re going to out us over allowing me to bring a weapon into a government building?”

He nodded, looking all too serious. “I absolutely will. Moving on, the black sticks are kubatons or self defense sticks. Just put them on the outside of your different bags and hold them in your hand as you walk. You can stab any sensitive spot if someone gets that close without you being able to reach for your spray or TASER.”

“I have one bag, Draco,” Hermione smiled, amused at the fact that he’d bought over a dozen sticks, like she had that many bags.

He shrugged sheepishly. “Give some to Pansy then… or we can get you more bags?”

She shook her head.

“Thank you, but no thanks. This bag is the only one I need.”

Draco smartly kept his mouth shut as his eyes roved over the years old Kate Spade tote. She was even more fond of him because of it, knowing how much judgement was in his eyes.

“Last, that has six self defense keychains in it. You hook it on your bag and pull the large plastic piece off if you need help and the alarm will blast.”

“Thank you so much, Draco. I am grateful you care enough to buy all of this,” unlike my dad who doesn’t even know where I’m living or what I’m doing, she left unsaid.

His eyes flicked up. “Of course, sweetheart. This was a selfish buy, but I want to know that you’re safe and you having these doodads will give me a little peace of mind.”

“Doodad is the most southern thing you’ve ever said.”

“If only it was southern; I think it may be old English.”

She shrugged, “Anyways… thank you. I’m going to reorganize my purse tonight and make sure Pansy knows how to use everything.”

“Good girl,” Draco praised, bringing a now familiar blush to her cheeks and hotness to her skin. “Give me a kiss and then I’ll walk you home.”

Walking with Draco in the light of day was an exhilarating thing; they only saw a few families, but still. There they were, out in public where anyone could see. And he looked just as happy as he did in the confines of his home. His fond smile was the same, the way he teased her, the way he had eyes only for her, even when two little ones rode by on matching pink tricycles. It was a heady feeling, especially for a girl like her who’d never experienced such an intense attraction before. It felt good.

xxxxxxxxx

“Mione!” Harry smiled, a glass of beer already on the table in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” she replied, hugging him back. His hip hit the table as he pulled her towards him, causing the beer to almost tip over.

“Oops,” he shrugged. “Might’ve gotten started early today. Had a late brunch over in Dupont with some new friends.”

“Yeah?” she asked as she sat down, hanging her bag that was adorned with a keychain alarm, TASER, pepper spray, and self defense stick on the chair behind her. She was armed to the brim, come what may.

She’d requested Harry meet her at Tunnicliff’s Tavern, a divey restaurant and bar on Capitol Hill that she’d come to favor. “How have you been meeting people?”

“Bit of a weird story, actually. I was waiting in line at Safeway with a rotisserie chicken, you remember how much I like those, and a guy just started asking me about my music since he could hear it through my AirPods. It was nice out, so we just went to Stead Park, smoked and ate chicken together. Turns out his younger sister lives here, and they have a ton of awesome friends who welcomed me into their crew!”

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “Is there anyone you can’t charm?”

Harry’s face dropped. Shit, wrong thing to say.

“Well,” he slumped his shoulders, looking far too much like a glum cartoon character for his own good. “I’ve tried contacting Pansy Parkinson a few times and she hasn’t replied. Did you know she’s in DC working for Draco Malfoy?”

Welp. Hermione was hoping she’d at least have a drink in hand before having this conversation.

“I did,” Hermione replied, holding up a polite hand to grab the attention of a passing server. The fun about places like this was how casual it was, servers wandering around looking to see who needed another drink. But the bad part about places like this was how casual it was, that she had to really work to get a drink or food.

After her drink and food order were placed, and Harry confirming he already had tater tots and chicken fingers on the way, she looked back at him.

“Don’t be mad, okay?”

He smiled, “About what?”

“Pansy and I are living together.”

Quick, like a bandaid, was always the best approach. Right? 

Harry had the decency to cover his mouth as he choked on his beer. At least some of his etiquette lessons seem to have stuck.

“You’re living? With Pansy?!”

“I am,” she replied. “I just got out of a pretty bad living situation, my apartment was awful and my roommate was worse. She was living alone in a place her dad bought and asked if I’d move in.”

“Aw, shit, Hermione! Why didn’t you tell me or at least have a housewarming party so we could have a casual encounter?”

“Because I hate parties!”

“But for me,” he pouted, the look one that was used in the past to have her stay up all night helping him with his coursework. No longer.

“Harry, I love you, but I can’t make Pansy love you as well.”

“Can you make her like me, though?” he asked, eyes the same green as his mother’s behind his glasses. 

Hermione had asked once why him and his dad wore the exact same frames, and he smiled goofily and told her that they promised when he was little to always match, and a Potter never broke a promise. She had no words for that one, but the men did look uncannily alike, thought Harry was a bit more conventionally attractive due to his sharper jaw and buffer, taller frame.

She had no idea how, after the shit he’s put her through, but Harry Potter was her platonic kryptonite.

“What if you come over for dinner this week?” she relented.

“Yes!” Harry replied, almost knocking over his beer and her glass of wine and water as he grasped her hands gratefully.

“What night works?”

“Any,” he replied automatically. “There’s nothing I can’t move.”

“Harry… I saw that you have your family birthday dinner Tuesday night on your dad’s schedule since he’ll be in Seattle on the 31st.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be fine if I move it.”

“Okay, so here’s the thing… Pansy does not like how weird you’re acting. It’s fine to think she’s pretty and cool, okay? But incessantly texting her and moving your life around like you already are in love with her is weird and invasive.”

“Fair point, I just find it hard to play it cool. She’s like… the only girl who has made me want to fall to my knees and kiss her feet, you know?”

Hermione shook her head. She definitely did not know that feeling.

“Oh! What if I bring my friend who I met at Safeway? Not as a double date or anything, but I think you’d like him.”

Hermione weighed the options in her head; she couldn’t very well tell Harry she was uncomfortable with a man she didn’t know in her house because she was dating Draco… so she nodded. Anyone who was friends with Harry couldn’t be that bad.

“Cool! Ron is awesome, I’ve been telling him about you.”

Hermione did not feel reassured by Harry’s judgment, but she smiled anyways and let him go off on an argument he’d had with his father on keeping weed in the house. It was predictably Harry, and right now, that’s what she needed after a long week and intense conversation with Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some articles that may be helpful if you want to parse through views referenced in the chapter/fic. 
> 
> US defense spending: https://www.defenseone.com/ideas/2020/01/why-does-us-spend-so-much-defense/162657/
> 
> Affordable Care Act AKA Obamacare AKA in this fic Kingsleycare cuz it sounds cute vs. a general republican perspective on how to 'fix' health care in America: https://www.latimes.com/projects/la-na-pol-obamacare-repeal/
> 
> Obergefell v. Hodges or the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) case that made gay marriage the law of the land: https://www.oyez.org/cases/2014/14-556
> 
> The SCOTUS cake shop case: https://www.oyez.org/cases/2017/16-111
> 
> Interesting data on GOP v Dem views on guns / second amendment rights: https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/06/23/bipartisan-support-for-some-gun-proposals-stark-partisan-divisions-on-many-others/
> 
> Let me know if there is anything else that you have questions about in terms of politics / the American political process! This is as wonky as we're going to get, so if you survived this chapter, congrats!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, my friends! Your comments keep me trucking along, and every kind word you say gives me the juice to keep writing :) Thank you to my dear, sweet Lillsbills for her smart brain and keen eyes as I put this chapter together!

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

“Does your 8th grade English teacher still work?” Draco asked as he placed dishes and silverware meticulously into the dishwasher, as though he were being judged on a competition show for the menial task. If he was, though, Hermione would give him a 10/10.

Hermione laughed, surprised at the question. “I’m not sure, honestly.”

“She’s an idiot, calling you uncreative,” Draco said with more vehemence than a childhood slight deserved, but it still made her feel good. “I can’t believe you’re making dessert again too, and it looks so fancy. You spoil me, sweetheart.”

“Only the best for your very late 40th birthday celebration. I can’t believe I had to find out from my boss’ birthday card to you!” Hermione said with the shake of her head. “I prepped most of it at home last night just in case, so this should only take a minute.”

“Tonight is the best celebration of 40 so far. I’ll stand back and watch a master at work.”

Hermione shot him a soft smile from where he leaned against the kitchen island and tried to derail her thoughts that had somehow become the speed train to domestic tranquility. 

How did cooking a few dinners for this man make her think that dropping her life plans and holing up as a trophy wife and homemaker might be a good future for her? Was that even a possibility in Draco’s mind? Was she coming down with something?

“I lied, I won’t stand back.” Draco laughed lowly, and Hermione relaxed as he moved behind her and placed his chin on top of her curls and a large hand on her hip. “Tell me what you’re doing?”

“Trying to focus,” Hermione mumbled before shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts. It didn’t work. “I’m making chocolate mousse. I have the chocolate heating up over boiling water, and now I’ll start whipping the heavy cream until stiff peaks are formed.”

“Is this how they make whipped cream?”

“Exactly!” Hermione smiled. “Heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla make whipped cream.”

“Seems like a lot of work for something we could buy at the store...”

“Wait until you taste it,” Hermione promised. “Some generous man gave me enough money to purchase fancy chocolate, too, so I’m going to make sure he gets a nice birthday dessert.”

Draco pressed a kiss on Hermione’s curls, and she wished that her hair was less bushy so she could’ve felt the heat of his lips rather than just the motion of his affections.

“That right, sweetheart?”

Hermione nodded.

“Call me old fashioned, but I like taking care of you… I want to go to bed knowing you have everything you could ever want and need.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, wanting nothing more than to turn around and kiss the daylights out of this man.

“Thank you,” she replied instead. With the way his hand tightened on her hip, she could tell she wasn’t the only one affected by the heaviness of this conversation.

“No, thank you,” Draco laughed. “I… may have some control issues, but it’s not nefarious. I just want to see you happy.”

The sheer earnesty was far too much for Hermione to comprehend. Did older men just move faster? Or was that a government official thing? Hermione felt like he was baring his soul and wallet to her in a way she didn’t deserve.

“Pansy thinks you’re my sugar daddy,” Hermione blurted out then and there, the two glasses of wine she’d consumed catching up to her.

Draco let out yet another loud laugh. “You are free to disagree, but I think that sort of relationship implies an inherent power imbalance that we don’t have. I am not asking for sexual favors in exchange for paying your bills or putting food on your table. I’m just a lucky man with a beautiful, smart woman who I want to take care of with my money. This is a romantic relationship, not a financial transaction for mutual benefit. Does it bother you that I take care of you? That I want to date you?”

Hermione shook her head. She’d thought about it a lot yesterday while watching Draco sit, waiting for his chance to talk during a very long, very boring Energy and Commerce Committee hearing that Congressman Potter was also at.

“The way you throw your money around made me uncomfortable at first, it still does, a bit, but everyone’s free to have their own unique ways of showing affection. I think that money’s just a bit hard to swallow because it’s obviously more tangible than physical touch or quality time, you know? As long as you just… understand I’ll never be able to pay you back, even if we stop seeing each other.”

She left ‘my family is dirt poor and I can hardly pay my loans back’ unsaid.

Draco leaned on the counter to her left, rubbing her nonexistent bicep consolingly.

“I’d never ask you to pay me back, sweetheart. I’d never use money against you, even if this blew up in our faces. That’s cruel and abusive no matter what way you color it. I’m grateful to not know anything but wealth, and only want the peace of mind of knowing you have your needs met. Having someone to spend my money on makes me happy, okay?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “That’s a very good way of explaining it… and you made me feel less guilty for accepting your kindness.”

“No guilt, sugar. Just let me take care of you and feel free to push back if I’m coming on too strong. I’ve said it before… I know my flaws.”

They were quiet except for the whirring of Draco’s mostly unused Kitchenaid stand mixer, Draco watching with interest as Hermione stood on her tippy toes to peek into the bowl.

“Here we go! See, stiff peaks,” Hermione pointed out a few minutes later.

“Mmm…” Draco replied, slipping a hand into the top of her dress without unzipping it.

“What… oh,” Hermione sighed in surprise at the foreign action, leaning back against him helplessly as he dipped deft fingers into the cups of her bra and molded his body up behind hers.

She didn’t know that a man’s hand could be big enough to span across a woman’s chest and rub both nipples at once, but here they were. And here she was, with a man’s hand on her chest for the first time. 

Pansy had told her that not everyone had sensitive boobs, but she was pleased to report that Draco’s hand on her chest zinged a direct line right down to her now-wet panties. What a weird, glorious moment it was.

“Talkin’ about stiff peaks, sweetheart, I couldn’t leave these beauties alone,” Draco murmured before glancing up towards her. “You okay?”

“Feels good,” she breathed, all too aware of the insistent prodding of Draco’s penis in her back. She had no idea what to do with that, and tried to just focus on the skilled hand in her dress and the already-cracked eggs that needed to be mixed into the cream.

“Keep working, sugar,” Draco directed as he lifted her off the ground and spun her so she was carefully sitting on the counter next to the mixer, legs wide as he stepped in between them. “This okay?”

Hermione nodded, though she wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was. She just knew she wanted to find out.

“Need to… add the eggs and sugar.”

“Add the sugar, sugar,” Draco smiled, reaching behind her to zip down her tight sky blue dress only so far as to loosen the top enough for it to fold down her torso and reveal her bra. The same one she wore on their first date, a silky little black bra that had no padding, but kept her small boobs as perky as mostly flat chests could be. 

“Gorgeous.”

Hermione blushed, almost sloshing the eggs over the side of the stainless steel mixing bowl as the blond intensely stared at her. 

He was squinting at her intensely, and perhaps a bit fondly, like he was searching for the next piece of expensive art to hang on the walls of his multi-million dollar home. Like she was pretty enough to impress everyone who came into his home, fawning and curious about how the mysterious Draco Malfoy lived. Like she was worthy of his affections and interest. Like she was someone worth keeping.

So she didn’t stop him as he unhooked her bra and pulled it off of her, only pausing to place the bowl of sugar she was adding to the thickening mixture down on the counter. To hell with chocolate mousse, honestly; Draco could order some for delivery if he really wanted it.

“Keep working,” Draco directed, and Hermione couldn’t help but bang her head back on the cabinet as his lips attached to her right nipple, tongue flicking out against the bud and affirming that she was certainly in the camp of those who loved having their boobs touched.

“Okay?” Draco asked, not removing his mouth from her breast to ask.

“I like it,” she replied, sounding more like a child with a new toy than a woman in the midst of a sexual encounter.

Draco took that as his go ahead to use his free hand to caress her other breast, leaving her hard pressed to do anything but soak in the sensation as he moved back and forth between her breasts.

The more he touched her, the more she worried about the state of her dress. Was the material thick enough for her underwear not to leak through? What dress had she worn today, anyways?

She cursed her always moving mind for taking her out of the pleasure of Draco’s wandering hands and lips.

Was the wetness caused by sexual pleasure something she needed to worry about in the same way she fretted every time she got her period at work and barely sat down due to fear of her tampon leaking through onto her dress? Why did no one fill women in on these sort of things in school? This was the real sex ed that they all needed in schools.

Oh, Lord above… She hoped that her skimpy underwear that Pansy insisted that she was supposed to wear under dresses were up to the challenge of the arousal caused by a roaming Draco Malfoy’s mouth. This, Pansy, was why high-rise cotton underwear were useful; they covered everything without ever doubting their efficacy. Ugly, yes, but high-utility.

Just as Hermione was about to tell Draco she needed to grab the melted chocolate off of the double burner it was warming up on, he kissed up her jaw with a wet, determined mouth, hands picking up right where his mouth left off on her chest. 

The nerd in her couldn’t help but wonder what men got from touching and licking a woman’s chest. It wasn’t like… down there, where there could be mutual satisfaction.

“I’ll be seriously impressed if you don’t ruin dessert,” Draco smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek like the buttoned up southern gentleman she now knew he could shed and zip on like a second skin.

Hermione let out a breathy laugh. “I need the chocolate.”

“As the lady commands,” Draco smiled, looking far less affected than she was.

“Oven mitts!” Hermione called as he took a step over to grab the chocolate that’d been melting over a double broiler, looking back at her fondly before putting a mitt on.

“What next?” Draco asked, walking back with the chocolate and standing far away from Hermione as though he could burn her just by being in her vicinity with the bowl.

“I’ll turn the mixer back on, and then you have to pour it in slowly so it doesn’t splash back on you,” she smiled. “Good, now let me go grab something from the fridge.”

On the walk to the stainless steel behemoth Draco called a fridge, she fixed her dress back over her shoulders sans bra, blushing at the stiff peaks of her nipples peeking through the light colored fabric. It was a lack of modesty she wasn’t used to, especially in her tightest, oldest dress. 

She’d bought it at Macy’s back at university, wanting to have a professional dress on hand. It’d been useful for class presentations, but it had no give in the material, which had her feeling like she was waddling around, about to rip it in half most times she’d put it on. 

“Draco!” Hermione squeaked as she turned back towards the man, “You can’t put your finger in there while the mixer is on.”

He laughed off her concern, licking the blessedly unbroken finger he’d used to reach into the still-moving stand mixer.

“Oh, that’s delicious,” he moaned.

Hermione smiled at the praise, but put her hands on her hips in admonishment. “Just wait until it’s done!”

“What’s in there? You finally gonna tell me?” he asked teasingly, looking at the covered tin Hermione had brought over.

“They’re chocolate ganache shells,” she explained, uncovering the edible bowls. “I made them early this morning… so we could put the mousse inside and eat them instead of just using normal bowls. I thought it’d be fun.”

Too naive to the affections of men, Hermione saw fondness in Draco’s look when he was truly thinking about how there were other vessels he’d prefer to eat the chocolate mousse off of, preferably the ones he was just licking.

“A+ for creativity, sweetheart. You are too good to me,” Draco smiled. Hermione was helpless but to smile back.

xx

“Thank you for coming over,” Draco smiled a few hours later. “I know you have your church group on Wednesdays… I won’t be in the habit of keeping you from attending going forward.”

Hermione nodded, “Summer is pretty lax since everyone travels. We’ll only meet once a month until September, but I don’t feel bad. Honestly, I needed this… I feel like I can just stop thinking when I’m with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Draco agreed, running his thumb back and forth over Hermione’s hand. “Next week’s a bit messy since we’re only voting on Tuesday and Wednesday, but maybe you can come over for a late dinner one night. I want as much time as I can get with you before we’re out for August and the election.”

“I think I can confidently say that you’re going to be the one calling the shots in terms of busyness,” Hermione smiled. “I’m really surprised you were able to make tonight work.”

“I had Blaise drive me home after the only event I needed to attend; thankfully it was just down the street. Do you ever drive James?”

Hermione shook her head, “I don’t. They don’t have women in the car alone with him, which works well for me.”

Draco looked thoughtful. “I feel like that’s becoming more of a trend among both parties… can’t say I hate that.”

“Do women drive you?” Hermione asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “It was one of my mother’s stipulations when father came to Congress many moons ago, actually, that he’d never be caught in a situation that could reflect poorly on their relationship or his honor. Not that he’d ever hurt a woman or prey on one, but people talk. Situations can spiral out of control quickly, especially in close quarters like a car where he knows he can get angry and lash out on whoever is driving him. I just followed in his path and hired a driver for long nights if Blaise or Adrian can’t join.”

“That makes sense… I think I’m becoming a little less idealistic about gender equity now that I’m out in DC. Still trying to think through how I feel, honestly.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“I’m not sure this will come out any profound way,” Hermione started, looking pensive as she tried to find the words. “It’s just… I always thought that men and women could do the same jobs and had a right to. Do I believe women are just as smart as men? Yes. Do I believe women are just as capable of serving in a public capacity as men? Yes. 

“But… do I believe that women are more likely to be pressured by male senior staff and Members of Congress into sexual acts or more likely to be sexually harrassed? Yes. It just… makes it hard to get a leg up, especially working for a male member. There’s a distance between him and I that I don’t think my chief or LD have ever had to worry about. A woman, especially a younger woman like me, will never be able to have that closeness with a male boss, never be able to have closed door meetings with a man without people talking or thinking the worst.”

“I think you’re right, for better or for worse. Equity is not necessarily possible in Hill jobs, and I can say that for me, I could never have an unmarried female chief of staff. Even a married female chief who others consider attractive would draw questions. It’s awul, but that’s one of the places society seems stuck in the mud on.”

“I hate that we even have to think about such things. It’s just not fair; shouldn’t the best person just get the job?”

Draco frowned. “I wish I could tell you that was true, but I can’t.

“Why does no one ever talk about this when we’re interns? I feel like I was kind of duped into thinking this place was one that rewarded hard work, no matter the person. 

“I think there would be a few legal troubles if interns were told that it’s harder for women to succeed in this male-dominated place that has no human resources department,” Draco smiled wryly.”

Hermione scoffed. She knew there wasn’t a good answer for her, but that didn’t make it less frustrating.

“Is your dad’s chief a man?”

“He is. Severus is also gay and happily married, so that has father’s affairs neatly tied with a bow.”

Hermione was quiet for a second while she thought. “Severus, that sounds so familiar.”

Draco smiled, “Severus Snape is married to Tom Riddle.”

Hermione’s eyes popped wide. Senate Majority Whip Tom Riddle, the notoriously powerful, oxymoronic, conservative, gay Senator from Georgia. 

She must’ve been really tired not to make the connection.

“Oh, wow! I didn’t know his husband worked in Congress.”

“That’s how they met, actually,” Draco smirked. “Severus was a newly-hired LA for Senator Dippet and one of the only staffers who actually tried to support my grandfather during the transition. He corrected Tom during a meeting between him and grandfather and the rest was history.”

“So what you’re saying is that there’s precedent for this type of relationship?” Hermione asked with a growing smile.

“I am, though the official story is that Tom and Severus met at an LGBTQ bible study because Tom is shameless and likes to tell a good tale.”

Hermione laughed despite herself. “That’s awful!”

“I’m sure you’ll meet Tom at some point soon, and everything will click. He’s… a man to be both admired and cautious of.”

Hermione let that thought permeate the room for a moment to see if Draco would take back his casual mention of introducing her to the Senate Majority Whip. Not to mention his family…

“Would you want to work for a woman?” Draco asked, rerouting the conversation in a smooth, obvious way that Hermione was grateful for. The Malfoys were a conversation she didn’t feel ready to touch just yet.

Hermione nodded. “Absolutely. I think that’d certainly make upward mobility more of a possibility and working on the Hill long term less of an anxious thought, knowing I have a sympathetic boss in my corner.”

Draco’s hand tightened on hers momentarily. “Do you have reason to be concerned?”

Hermione let out a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Nothing especially egregious, just men who come in for meetings with my team and tell me they didn’t expect such a pretty girl to be at the front desk or ask me to dinner. There have also been weird conversations with members in the elevator, but I just stopped hopping in the elevators alone with them. All par for the course, I’d say.”

The room was quiet for too long.

“Sorry,” Hermione spoke into the silence. “That was more than you needed to know.”

“I’m… just trying not to ask for the names of every pervert who has made you uncomfortable,” Draco replied, voice tight, but motions careful as he pulled Hermione onto his lap from where she’d been sitting next to him on the couch.

“Like I said, it’s par for the course. What did my mom say the one time I shared my concerns back when I was an intern? ‘You knew what you were getting into.’”

“That’s shit,” Draco replied quickly. “Pardon my language, sweetheart, but that’s not true. You are at the Capitol to work for the people of your district, not face harassment from visitors and congressmen. Would you tell me if it happens again?”

Hermione sighed, resting her head on Draco’s broad chest. “It just feels so silly, you know? I take a call from someone who's just lost their husband and can’t get the VA to pay out his benefits, then step into the hallway and have a 70-year-old congressman compliment my dress. My problem, when you weigh it with what others are dealing with, is so so arbitrary.”

“Being harrassed is a real problem, sweetheart. One that they drill into all members’ heads at conference meetings and certainly Democratic Caucus meetings too. One that we’re all warned about at freshman orientation when we first come to Congress, but clearly a message some have gone too long without. I want to be there for you…”

“And what? Ruin your career simply because you outed yourself for yelling at someone after I got harassed?”

“Have some faith in me, okay Hermione? I can protect myself and protect you at the same time. Just trust that I’ll do it,” Draco murmured.

“Okay,” Hermione replied, feeling a bit lighter. “I’ll tell you if something happens again.”

“I’d prefer if you gave me a complete list of everyone who has looked at you wrong since you stepped foot into the Capitol, but they call me a master of negotiation for a reason.”

Hermione let out a loud laugh at that; she still felt a bit guilty for being surprised at the discovery that Draco was funny. In a bit of a dark, dry way, but funny nonetheless. It had her wondering what was behind the public-facing mask of most government officials.

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” she replied.

“You’re sweeter than anyone deserves,” Draco answered honestly, pressing a kiss to her temple like he couldn’t help himself. “One name?”

Hermione made a small noise of consideration. “I know he’s a Democrat, but… Senator Slughorn has been meeting with my boss on some vaccination approval legislation. He’s visited our office three times over the past few weeks and makes me very uncomfortable. He actually invited me to a dinner he said he puts on with young staffers today.”

Draco groaned, “He’s had so many ethics complaints written up at this point that he doesn’t seem to care. I would tell you that he cares more about scooping up young talent and getting mentioned in the news for ‘knowing them back in the day,’ but that doesn’t take away the fact that he’s creepy.”

“I mean… he doesn’t even know me to invite me,” Hermione agreed.

“Exactly,” Draco replied. “What did you tell him?”

“I was honest, I told him I have my church small group on Wednesdays,” her smile was a meek, uncertain thing. “Weirdly, I think that made him more insistent.”

“See… church isn’t a thing for me, but it might be for him. The old man is obsessed with shoving polished gems in his pocket.”

“Isn’t he married?” she asked. “I thought he was just being nice at first.”

Draco tried to shove down the protective feeling in his chest at Hermione’s naivete, feeling more certain than ever that he needed to do what he could to protect the girl from his colleagues and the world at large. 

Would she object to being holed up here for the rest of her life? He never wanted her to leave the safety of his home, not when the world could so badly mar her innocence and goodwill.

“Not all married men are good people, sweetheart,” Draco replied lightly.

Hermione groaned, shoving her face fully into Draco’s chest. She was a bit embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just…” she paused for a moment, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “I’ve always been smart, but I’ve never been socially observant? It’s still hard for me to know sometimes what’s up and down when it comes to human interaction. It’s embarrassing.”

“Nothing you do is worth being embarrassed over,” Draco replied, wanting to tack on ‘you’re perfect,’ but leaving it off. He needed to tread lightly. “You’re sweet, so much so that it’s hard for me to believe you’re real.”

“I’m not always sweet,” Hermione pushed back.

“Oh yeah?” Draco replied, looking fond and indulgent at even entertaining the thoughts.

“No,” she replied, shoving down her urge to pout at his disbelieving expression. “Remember Marietta?”

“How could I forget Marietta?”

“I asked you to fire her…”

“In order to hire your friend who needs a job, who, I may add, is already exponentially more competent than Marietta. Did you know she organized the clothes in my office closet while I was at votes today?”

Hermione wasn’t surprised, honestly. Pansy was terrifying when she was given even a smidge of power.

“I… told my professor that classmates weren’t helping with our final project for my debate class last year and they failed.”

“You were committed to your studies and ensured people were judged appropriately for their work. Sounds like you were kind enough to give them a lesson on how it works when you skive off in the real world.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. That logic made him sound much older than he was.

“I shut the elevator in Rep. Umbridge’s face last week even though she was screeching for me to hold it.”

Draco laughed boisterously at that, pressing a fond kiss to her lips.

“I think that may be the best thing you’ve ever done.”

Hermione’s eyes opened widely, joy creeping in on her face. “You don’t like her?”

“Absolutely not,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “She is foul and if I never saw her again it’d be too soon.”

“Is it true she’s running for the Senate in 2020 if Senator Macmillan retires?”

“Father would never let that happen,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “She’s unlikeable anywhere outside of the Florida panhandle. Let’s put it this way, even if Dems put up a black mold covered rock to run against Umbridge, we’d still lose the seat by double digits. Absolute poison of a woman.”

“That’d be fine with me,” Hermione shrugged with a playful smile. “I think Florida will be in play next cycle regardless, it always is in a presidential year… especially now that President Shacklebolt is terming out.”

“Don’t remind me,” Draco sighed.

“Who do you think is going to run?”

Draco looked pensive for a moment, like whether he was weighing whether or not to talk about it.

The moment was too long for Hermione.

“Sorry, I forget sometimes that it might be… unwise for you to talk to me about things,” she said quietly, pulling her hands into her lap. “It’s silly, but it feels like I’ve known you a lot longer than I have.”

“Don’t apologize to me, sugar,” he directed, tugging gently on one of her errant curls. “I just am a bit superstitious about these things, I don't like to put the cart ahead of the horse when we haven’t even seen the outcome of midterms yet. That’ll determine what happens in the new year.”

“That’s fair,” Hermione shrugged. “Just… don’t feel bad if you don’t want to tell me something, okay?”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s not warranted. Part of our relationship means that I’ll need to trust you not to spill your guts to Politico or someone in your office, right? Which you haven’t done just yet, from what I’ve read.”

Hermione smiled in what she hoped was a consoling way. “That’s not going to happen… I’ve never been one for gossip, and I know how we might look to people.”

“My good girl,” Draco crooned, the words going right to her nether regions. “Yeah, sweetheart? Do you like knowing you’re my good girl?”

She didn’t have the words to reply, instead pressing her face into his neck and nipping the soft skin there.

“Such a good girl, coming to me and letting me help you,” Draco’s low southern voice continued.

“Draco,” she whined, squeezing her legs together as a feeling she couldn’t ignore built between them.

“I’ll always take care of you,” Draco promised, reaching a hand through her massive pile of hair to unzip her dress again. The wetness between her legs grew at the anticipation of what was to come. “Now, I’m going to take another look at your pretty chest.”

Draco tipped her off his lap gently, pulling her dress down with one hand while using the other to hold her hair up and make sure it didn’t get tangled in the zipper. He was far, far too good at this.

“So perfect, sweetheart.” Draco breathed, her nipples hardening to even stiffer peaks as his breath ghosted over them. It didn’t even matter to her that he had just eaten literal mounds of chocolate and had the breath of a kid after a successful Halloween night; not when he was touching her like this.

She wondered what he saw as he thumbed over her nipples, if he was just as anticipatory of what was to come as her. “What do you need?”

She turned red, only letting out a small whine as she pressed her bare chest insistently into his hands.

“My good girl, I’ll give you what you need,” he promised, pressing a wet kiss to each red bud before trailing kisses up her sternum until he was at her lips.

He hovered over her, holding himself up so his hips weren’t flush against hers. The move frustrated her, and she did her best to focus on the very insistent, hot kisses being pressed against her lips while she worked her legs up in her very tight work dress to pull him down against her.

Only her dress ripped at the movement, the sound of the old, cheap fabric the only noise in the room.

Like most women, Hermione knew that clothes ripped all of the time, and normally it was just a seam that you’d never noticed.

Draco clearly seemed concerned, however, pulling back and looking at her with a wry smile before laughing.

She joined in, looking down to see that her arms were still hovering in the air from where Draco had removed them from around his neck. Her legs were splayed from where she’d unsuccessfully tried to wrap them around his hips. And, of course, on top of that, her very rosy boobs were on full display.

“I look like a dead bug,” she moaned with a giggle, throwing her forearms over her face to cover it as she brought her legs back down to the couch.

Draco burst into even louder laughter at that.

“What ripped?” he asked after their chuckling died down.

“Oh, I don’t kn-” she looked down, groaning. The left side of her dress had ripped right up the seam.

“How’d that even happen?” Draco asked, eyes wide. “What?”

He was looking at the blush covering Hermione’s face. Could she sink into the couch and never come out?

“I was…”

“You were what, sweetheart?” Draco asked, voice like a tether pulling the truth out of her.

“Trying to put my legs around you…” she whispered, though it was clear he heard her by the way he pulled her back onto his lap.

“That better?” he asked. She couldn’t see him, not with the way she was now wrapped around him like an octopus, but she knew he was laughing.

“Stop,” she replied, voice quiet. She was embarrassed, but not mortified. She couldn’t be, not with the lightheartedness that Draco was approaching this with.

And, of course, with the newly acquired knowledge that Pansy’s first time had ended with her breaking her pinky finger from the roughness of the act, she couldn’t feel too bad.

Sex is awkward was the mantra she’d keep repeating in her head until she felt better.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Draco replied, rubbing a hand down her bare back. Because her boobs were still out like it was no big thing. “Did you like this dress?”

Hermione nodded into his shoulder.

They both started talking at the same time.

“You can’t buy me another.”

“I’ll give you money to buy new dresses.”

Draco laughed. “Are you telling me that I’m predictable?”

“You are,” Hermione confirmed.

“If you like it, why don’t you want another?”

“Because I won’t be able to find the same one, it’s old.”

She toyed with telling Draco just how old it was, but already felt enough like orphan Annie in times like these.

Draco pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then buy a new one you like even better.”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just… do you have clothes I can wear home?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Would you like to see my room?”

“Yes!” Hermione replied, a bit too eagerly. Of course she wanted to see his room.

She hopped up off of Draco’s lap, blushing as she fixed the now ripped dress back over her shoulders. Draco, she noticed, had averted his eyes like the gentleman he was. She liked the way he so quickly went from sexy to respectful, as though he knew exactly what she needed in the moment.

“I realized you haven’t seen upstairs at all…” Draco said, grabbing Hermione’s hand as they walked. The intimacy wasn’t for show; it was for them and them alone, and that left her feeling warm and fuzzy. “It’s three floors high, five baths and four bedrooms. There’s a bathroom on the bottom floor, then en suites in all of the other rooms. I kept two of them bedrooms, including the master, and converted the other two into office spaces.”

“It’s gorgeous, Draco,” Hermione complimented as they peeked through the second floor of the house. And it was; there was an open sitting room right at the top of the second floor, complete with a comfy gray rug and darker gray sectional couch. There was a small white bookshelf built into the wall that she, again, wanted to look peruse.

“Thank you,” he smiled, looking please. “I actually played a part in decorating; I didn’t want to move in somewhere that felt strange… it’s a blessing to be able to have two houses that feel like homes.”

“I’ll bet,” Hermione smiled, peering into Draco’s bedroom as he gestured grandly for her to move inside. “This is exactly what I expected.”

The room bordered the back of the house, boasting floor to ceiling windows. The back of the bed rested against a light gray brick wall, leaving the room feeling open and airy. It was the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen in a rowhouse, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the large bed with a gray leather-backed bedframe and downy white duvet. 

She wasn’t surprised that Draco enjoyed naps, not with a bed like that.

“My bed is a bit of an indulgence,” Draco smiled, pulling Hermione tightly to his side.

She swallowed, thinking of everything that could happen in the bed right in front of them.

“We had to build out my closet when I moved in; can you believe that there was no closet in the house’s master bedroom?”

“My room didn’t have a closet at my apartment,” Hermione smiled. “I used a clothing rack that took hours to put together after I lugged it back from the Columbia Heights Target on the Metro. It would’ve been nice if it didn’t collapse every week.”

“That sounds like a crime against humanity,” Draco shuddered. “I’m sure Pansy doesn’t live in a house without closets, but that’s just a hunch.”

Hermione laughed. “You would be correct. She moved into the master bedroom and told her parents that they’ll need to stay in a guest suite when they visit.”

Draco just shook his head. “I am in awe of her. She is a force to be reckoned with, you were right.”

“I’m glad she’s making your life easier,” Hermione smiled.

Draco pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “She really is… so thank you for bringing her into my life. Let’s see, clothes…”

The man opened up a set of drawers, revealing a ridiculous amount of t-shirts and sweatshirts.

“You don’t even wear t-shirts or sweaters! Why do you have so many?” Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. “I have this weird thought that I’ll change my mind one day and wear t-shirts again. They’re yours to take.”

“Hmm…” Hermione thought, making sure not to jostle the neatly folded clothes as she felt the fabrics. She picked out a sweatshirt that was a faded blue and white with the symbols for Delta Kappa Epsilon on it. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because Malfoy men are always in fraternities,” he replied with a joking smile. 

“Like I said… not surprised.”

He opened up the drawer below it next, revealing even more pairs of sweatpants, joggers, and sweatshorts. As tempted as she was to take Lululemon joggers, she grabbed another pair of sweatshorts.

“You like those?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, face blushing. “I’ve been sleeping in them.”

Draco’s smile was a predatory thing. “I like the thought of that… take as many pairs as you want.”

“This is good for now. I’ll be right back.”

To his credit, Draco didn’t comment as Hermione went to go change in the bathroom, though he very much could’ve told her that he’d just spent the past hour kissing the breasts that she was now hiding from him. Again… he was proving to be a real gentleman, and the numbers continued to tally in his favor on Hermione’s mental scoreboard.

She came back out with the sleeves on Draco’s college crewneck rolled up so her hands weren’t covered and the shorts rolled over in the same way as they were.

“Ready?” he asked, receiving a nod.

Hermione had almost walked out the front door with her bag over Draco’s shoulder, ripped dress stuffed inside when she squeaked.

“Where’s my bra?”

Still on the counter, she thought.

Draco smiled, rubbing a hand down her cheek.

“It’s mine now, for memory’s sake.”

“Draco!” Hermione replied, face bright red at the thought. “You… what if someone finds it?”

“The only people stepping into my bedroom are you and my housekeeper, sweetheart. I hardly think that’s a concern.”

“Okay,” she replied, stepping down the now familiar stairs to his home. When did she stop feeling so much like a guest here?

“I’m going to miss this over the next few months,” Draco admitted, looking very confident for a man with a Kate Spade tote tucked over his shoulder. It was a chivalrous badge of honor for a man like Draco, though, she supposed.

“Don’t remind me,” she frowned. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Are you taking any vacations or going home?”

Hermione had to hide her snort at the thought.

She shook her head, plastering on a neutral expression that had Draco’s attention.

“No, I’m staying here. I have no reason to take time off.”

“Besides the fact that you’re given paid vacation days for that purpose.”

“Those aren’t real,” she rolled her eyes. “Any time I take off will be judged since I wouldn’t be going on a real trip.”

Draco looked thoughtful, “If you want to take a real trip, I know a nice place down in North Carolina.”

Hermione laughed before realizing that Draco was dead serious. He then said as much, as though she couldn’t tell if the offer was real.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That’s all I ask,” Draco smiled.

Pansy was sitting on the front porch of their house when they walked up.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked immediately, jogging up the steps to look Pansy over for physical injury.

“I’m not hurt, but I’m wondering why Harry is asking what type of wine will pair well with the meal we’re making for tomorrow. I thought we were just ordering pizza.”

“Oh, gosh…” Hermione muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. “We are ordering pizza. I think he’s just excited.”

Draco just watched the interaction, comfortable and amused. Hermione liked how he didn’t seem to have a complex about his employee being Hermione’s dearest friend.

“You need to talk him off whatever romantic plank he’s hopped onto before I push him off,” Pansy warned, folding her arms over her chest.

“I will,” Hermione promised, smiling softly in the placating way she knew Pansy couldn’t stand.

“What’s this? Potter’s son again?” Draco asked.

Pansy scowled. “The roach won’t die, and Hermione is the weird little girl who brings insects inside the house without regard for anyone else’s preference.”

Draco laughed loudly at that while Hermione tried to hide her giggle.

“That is… an apt description of her,” Draco agreed. “Just get through dinner with him, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully his friend is better than he is,” Pansy replied.

Draco turned to look at Hermione.

“Friend?”

Pansy’s eyes widened for only a second. This was going to be fun. 

Hermione nodded, not understanding the undercurrents of the question. “Yeah, he said he has a friend he wants us to meet.”

Us, Pansy mouthed to herself, wondering how her friend could be so obtuse.

“I’ll text you when I’m home from my dinner tomorrow to see if you’ve finished up.” Draco replied, tone breezy. Pansy saw the danger in it. “I’ll fly home right after votes Friday, so I’d like to see you again if possible.

“Goodnight, Mr. M,” Pansy saluted, turning to walk inside.

“Bye, Pansy,” he replied, pulling Hermione close to him. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” she smiled back, getting onto her tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips that was far more tame than those shared over the past few hours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he replied, leaving no room for discussion.

“Okay! I’ll try and wrap dinner up quickly, hopefully Pansy and Harry want to talk.”

“Let’s hope,” Draco replied with a nod, handing over her bag and down the stairs. “Sweet dreams, my sweet girl.”

xxx

Thursday, July 12, 2018

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to impress him, Pans,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“That doesn’t mean I want to eat Domino’s, Hermione!” Pansy shrieked.

Stress was clearly getting the best of her. Or was it annoyance? Hermione couldn’t tell, but she was honestly over it and Harry hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Please stop yelling at me,” Hermione replied calmly. “I’ll order Wiseguys, okay? This is easily rectified.”

“Thank you,” Pansy grit her teeth, but still got the words out. Hermione was impressed.

The pizzas and salad had arrived in perfect time, the delivery woman leaving as Harry and a tall redhead hopped out of an Uber.

“Hi! You live here?” Harry asked, eyes wide. “This is like… quintessential DC wealth.”

Hermione returned the man’s hug. “Pansy’s parents own it.”

“Where is she?” Harry asked, cutting straight to the chase.

Aware of the stranger hovering awkwardly behind Harry, something that was made weirder because of how big he was, she sidestepped her friend and smiled.

“Hi there, I’m Hermione,” she greeted him, holding out a hand.

“Hello, I’m Ron,” the redhead replied in an accent that she couldn’t immediately place.

“You look familiar,” she said. “Are you… related to Percy Weasley, by chance?”

“Oh god,” the boy moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “What’d he do to you?”

“What?” Hermione asked, face scrunched and arms crossing her chest. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Harry!” Ron’s eyes were wide and they had a conversation like she wasn’t even there. “You didn’t tell me she was friends with my brother!”

Harry shrugged. Was that really his best defense? 

Hermione was annoyed already.

“Well, come on in!” Hermione smiled cheerily, already ready for Draco to text her that he was done so she could kick them both out of her house.

Harry didn’t even wait for Hermione to direct him to the kitchen, just taking off towards the sounds of Pansy grabbing plates.

“How do you know Percy?” Ron asked.

Hermione thought he was trying to start the conversation over, so she decided to give him a chance. Hopefully that made dinner more bearable.

“He signed up as a mentor for a program I took part in for my Hill internship,” she explained. “He’s been very kind and helpful to me.”

“You’re a republican? Don’t you work for Harry’s dad?”

She shook her head, “More democratic interns sign up for the mentorship program than republicans, so they matched students up randomly. It doesn’t really matter, though, Percy is still a great friend and resource for me. What do you do in DC, Ronald?”

“Ron, just Ron. Only my ma calls me Ronald,” the boy replied, ears red. “I’m just spending some time here with Percy. Graduated in May, not really sure what’s next for me.”

Blech. Hermione knew guys like this. ‘Finding their path forward’ while spending their parents’ money on liquor and weed. She took a breath. She could be civil and reserve her judgment.

“Oh? Are you looking for fulltime work in DC?”

He wrinkled his nose like he couldn’t fathom why she wanted to know more about his aspirations.

“I’ll get a job soon, just not sure where I want to land yet.”

“Nice,” she smiled, walking him into the kitchen where Harry was leaning against the kitchen island, eyes wide as he watched Pansy opening a bottle of wine like she were turning hay to gold.

“Pansy, this is Ron,” Hermione introduced, seeing that Harry was far too enraptured to perform the nicety himself.

“Pleasure,” she smiled, a toothless expression. It was clear Pansy was not pleased to meet Ronald Weasley to anyone with eyes and a brain. Evidently, that would only be Hermione, as Ron reached a hand out as though Pansy were the type to shake in greeting. The girl simply looked at his proffered limb until he retracted it.

Hermione knew she needed to turn this around; why was it always up to her to get Harry out of bad situations? She felt like the smart, underappreciated friend who had a role in every movie ever produced.

They plated up food and sat down at the kitchen table quickly, with Pansy being a bitch and taking the head seat so she wouldn’t have to sit next to Harry.

“What have you been up to, Pansy? I saw your LinkedIn update, you’re a working woman,” Harry smiled.

Pansy gave him a squinted look, “I didn’t know that we were connected on there.”

Harry had the decency to blush, “I was just checking in on you… How do you like working?”

She shrugged, stabbing a crouton far too viciously on her fork. “It’s nice to have something to do, I like the stress of it all, actually.”

He nodded like a bobblehead. “I bet you’re a great gatekeeper. Dad’s never had someone assertive enough in the role, so Draco’s lucky to have you there busting balls and chopping old white guys down at the knees.”

Hermione could tell that Pansy was hiding a smile at Harry’s unbridled confidence in her abilities. Progress! There was progress.

So, of course, Pansy looked over to Ron. It was a bit of a Regina George moment as she looked over the boy’s three wolf moon shirt and shoulder length red hair.

“Ronald, was it?”

“Yes ma’am,” the boy replied quickly before blushing. “I mean, Pansy.”

Harry let out a laugh. “She’s got a major ma’am energy, you know? Like BDE.”

Pansy ignored him. “What do you do, Ronald?”

“Man, what’s with the German Inquisition?” he muttered. 

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth at the misnomer, playing it off as a cough.

“I graduated in May, I’m here with my brother and sister trying to figure out my path in life.”

“Sister?” Hermione asked. “Where does your sister work?”

“Oh yeah, got one of those,” he nodded. “Ginny’s a year younger, she’s in school still, but doing a sports medicine internship with the Nationals.”

“Very impressive!” Hermione nodded, not noticing the rumbling thunder on the redhead's face as she praised his sibling’s success. “Is she enjoying it?”

“As much as you can enjoy standing in the heat for hours to deal with the most boring sport there is.”

“Oh?” Hermione replied after swallowing a bite of chicken parmesan pizza, unsure of what he was ranting about.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, clearly taking her reply as agreement. “You hate baseball too?”

Hermione laughed a bit, realizing Harry and Pansy were now in a quiet conversation of their own.

“I’m not too big into sports generally; I watch football sometimes, though.”

“Nice! Harry and I thought we could stake out a bar on Saturdays and Sundays to watch football. You girls should come.”

Hermione couldn’t think of anything less that she’d want to do than spend her entire weekend in a bar watching football. She knew many people who did just that, but… no. No thank you.

“Sounds great, we’ll see when we get to the fall,” she smiled politely.

“Nice,” Ron repeated, smiling to himself. “Where do you girls normally go out?”

“I’m not really a bar-goer, but I think Pansy spends a lot of time in Adams Morgan.”

Ron snorted, “Figures.”

“Pardon?”

“Just… Harry’s not too stuffy, he promised you wouldn’t be either…”

Hermione tried not to be offended, and turned back to her food. She knew her temper, and Ron Weasley seemed to be able to just rile her up with only a few words.

“So… what apps are you on?” Ron asked through a mouthful of half-chewed pizza.

“Excuse me?” she asked, barely able to understand him.

“Apps… Tinder, Bumble, Hinge.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “None of them.”

“What? Why?” he asked, looking as though she’d just told him that she killed puppies for fun and posted the footage on her Facebook page.

“Because I don’t want to be? Not everyone is focused on dating, Ronald.”

The boy just muttered to himself, shaking his head.

The rest of the meal didn’t go any better, with Harry asking Pansy if she would be interested in joining his family at Crystal Mountain, Washington State’s most luxurious ski resort, over Thanksgiving and Ron asking if he could smoke a joint in the house.

So, no, Hermione did not feel bad about ushering the duo out as soon as Draco texted her that he was done with dinner.

“Could I get your number?” Ron asked as she went to shut the door in his face.

“There’s… what? No thank you,” Hermione replied, truly flummoxed.

“Harry hyped you up for nothing,” he replied, shaking his head as he went to wait with a slumped over Harry for an Uber.

“Well that was shit!” Pansy remarked.

“Was that supposed to be a double date or something?” Hermione asked, receiving a loud cackle from Pansy as though she’d finally lost the plot.

“Or something,” Pansy agreed, placing the plates and silverware into the dishwasher without even rinsing them off.

“That was awful.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to play nice with your friend,” Pansy shrugged. “He’s a trainwreck.”

“You seemed a little interested at the beginning?” Hermione tried.

Pansy looked caught off guard at that. “Nope.”

Hermione smiled, feeling very much like Spongebob when he’d discovered Squidward enjoying Krabby Patties when he thought no one was watching.

“Whatever you say, Pans,” Hermione replied.

“Don’t say it like that, you catty bitch!”

Her smile grew at Pansy’s reply. “Why don’t you just have him over for something casual? Maybe he hasn’t left yet, I’m sure he’d be happy to stay.”

Pansy shook her head. “Not when you’re leaving, can’t have them asking questions.”

“You’re right,” Hermione sighed. “I’d stay any other night, but I’m not going to be able to see Draco for a while.”

The taller girl raised an eyebrow, “So what are you still doing here! Scram!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione replied, laughing loudly as she did.

“I’m changing the locks!” Pansy yelled back.

xxx

“How was your dinner?” Draco asked, looking weirdly calm.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, spinning so she was facing him instead of the television.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Sure.

“Dinner was a trainwreck, honestly. Harry’s friend was extremely rude and grungy, not that I’m sure I was expecting someone Harry befriended in line at Safeway to be the pinnacle of success. It was nearing The Office Dinner Party levels of awkwardness at some points.”

“I haven’t seen it,” Draco replied, a smile growing as he saw her outrage. “Are you going to join the angry mob of people in my life who want me to watch?”

“No,” Hermione smiled, shaking her head. “We’re going to start from the beginning, I want to see your face as we watch it.”

“If we must,” Draco sighed, though he looked anything but aggrieved at the idea of having Hermione committed to watching a nine-season show with him. “So, back to your dinner. How did it end?”

“Well, Pansy kicked them out of the house citing an idiot-induced migraine, and Ronald tried to ask me for my number to quote chill sometime unquote before I shut the door in his face.”

“Did you give it to him?”

Hermione looked at him in shock. “Of course I didn’t, Draco! Why would I ever give my number to someone like that?”

Draco smiled, leaning over to peck her lips. “My good girl...”

“You really thought I’d do that?”

The man looked somewhat vulnerable for a moment as he shrugged. “I don’t know, sweetheart; I have half a mind to worry that you’ll find a boy your own age and realize how much easier it’d be dating them.”

“Easier it’d be to what? Sit at a bar watching football? Go to house parties that start at 10pm and require you to be fashionably late? Call me boring, Draco, but that’s never been my idea of fun. I like to talk about topics that actually matter… I like to read and discuss books with people who’ve actually read them… I like spending time with you, okay? You make me feel special and wanted. I hope you know by now that I’ll tell you the moment that changes.”

‘I don’t think it will,’ she left unsaid. Hopefully the look in her eyes conveyed that.

“I know,” Draco agreed easily. “It’s just hard for me to know that every guy in DC is chatting up my pretty girl when I’m not there.”

“Well, one, that isn’t something that happens, and two, I told him to leave me alone. Promise… you have nothing to worry about.”

Draco just kissed her in reply, which seemed to be the only thing that could assuage their worries of the great big world that lay outside of Draco’s rowhome. But as he whispered in her ear, she shoved her worries to the back of her mind. For now, worries of public opinion and letting others into their little world could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your thoughts! Time jump ahead in the next chapter :)
> 
> thiscitychickk.tumblr.com if you want to talk all things fic and politics or anything else! All the love <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are amazing, seriously. I hope you just truck on through your ?????? that will certainly be happening as you read the beginning of this chap and make it to the end :) I won't be able to share the next chapter tomorrow, so I hope this 10k beast keeps you set for a while!
> 
> -POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER IN END NOTES- TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES 
> 
> Amazing amazing cover art from a very talented friend also in end notes!

August 23, 2018

Hermione spent the entirety of her first time flying first class fielding sympathetic looks from flight attendants who certainly thought she was flying out for a funeral. Knowing how long she’d been crying, they had good reason for their assumptions. She always had been an ugly crier.

She tapped her foot impatiently as the plane touched down, waiting for airplane mode to shut off and for her texts to pop up. With Pansy gone, there were only two… from Draco. She took a breath as she opened their text thread and typed a message of her own.

**Hermione: Landed. Are you here?**  
**Draco: I’m at arrivals door 4 in a black truck. See you soon, sweetheart.**

Hermione let out a sob as Draco jumped out of his car like a knight in a shining black Ford F-150 a few minutes later and rushed around the vehicle to pull her into his arms. If her mind were less foggy, she would’ve noticed the way that he definitely was rocking ‘Edward Cullen pulling up to Forks High School in sunglasses’ vibes with his incognito hat and shades on.

Only this was Charlotte Douglas International Airport, not Forks, and her life was a crumbly mess of old ghosts coming out to play.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair, the bill of his hat pressing awkwardly into the crown of her head. It was clear that he was a recognizable figure around here, if not for his blond hair then his handsome face. But still, here he was, picking her up like any other boyfriend would. “Let’s get you home.”

Home… she liked the sound of that. She was grateful for his help into the truck, actually needing the hand up unlike when he pulled his act of chivalry as she hopped in and out of his compact DC car.

“Have some water, the purple one is for you,” Draco prodded as he carefully pulled out of the airport arrival area and onto the highway, nodding to the two plastic water bottles in the car’s cup holders.

She nodded, taking a sip of cold water. After crying out what she guessed to be most of the liquid in her body, she really was thirsty. She wasn’t a scientist, but she was pretty sure that’s how it worked.

“Do you have everything you need? Think of anything you forgot?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” Hermione croaked, speaking for the first time since she’d hung up with Draco before boarding her plane. “Sorry… for this.”

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re talking about,” Draco replied, voice as gentle as she’d ever heard it. Everything really did sound far nicer in southern accents, especially his.

“Drama… this soon. Didn’t want that to happen.”

“Sweetheart,” Draco sighed, taking her hand in his own while leaving the left one on the wheel. “If I got hit by a car and broke my leg, would you be mad at me?”

She shook her head.

“If I lose my seat in November, will you be mad at me for not waiting a few cycles before losing so our relationship was on more solid ground?”

Hermione cracked a small smile. She saw his point.

“We can’t help when unsavory events occur… and even if we aren’t years into our relationship, I’m still going to be there for you as though we were. Okay?”

Hermione nodded… that did sound rather good to her, as guilty as she still felt.

“I know, it’s just… it feels like this should be happening when we’re a bit more settled.”

“We can’t change what’s already happened, right? We roll with the punches.”

Hermione just nodded, unsure of how chipper Draco would be soon, when he knew everything.

“I have another drawer of sweats and t-shirts waiting for you here,” Draco offered. “They’ve been awfully lonely, and I heard through the grapevine that a pair of sweats called me pompous for ignoring them.”

She nodded, trying to smile.

“How was your flight?” Draco asked, trying to get her to talk. He was nothing if not persistent.

“First class was nice,” she replied, getting a pleased grin from Draco.

“That right, sugar? You wait until we get you on an international trip in first class, you’ll never go back to coach.”

“You say that like people who fly coach have a choice,” she replied, hoping her words didn’t fall flat. But honestly, she didn’t have the energy to think twice about it. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the smooth ride of the large truck.

“Hermione?” Draco asked quietly, jostling her arm softly.

She blinked her eyes open, not even having realized that they closed for more than a quick blink. The car was stopped in front of what she thought to be the quintessential southern home.

Draco’s home was as opulent and beautiful as he was; a sprawling white mansion with equally white pillars; a wraparound porch that had fancy rocking chairs. A sprawling lawn of bright green grass with well-manicured bushes and flowers. It was perfectly kempt and designed.

“Welcome home,” he smiled, a bit nervously, she thought. As though she’d have anything but praise for this gorgeous estate.

“It’s stunning, just what I expected.”

“Oh yeah?” Draco asked, taking Hermione’s bag over his shoulder and hopping out of the car. “Careful, don’t want you breaking a foot hopping out of this beast.”

He helped her down, ever the gentleman, and took the water bottles into his hands. Their eyes met for a moment, and he must’ve seen something in them that had him pulling her into another hug.

“I missed you, baby,” Draco breathed, one arm tight behind Hermione’s head and the other around her waist, water bottles jostling against her skin. She didn’t say anything, though, eyes blurry once again, because she didn’t have to. Draco was there, and he was going to take care of her.

“I think you’ll like inside as well,” Draco replied as he pulled back like they hadn’t just had a moment. “My housekeeper comes on Wednesdays, thankfully, so she was here yesterday and everything is neat.”

“Wow,” Hermione gasped as she walked in. The ceilings were high like they were in most pre-war homes, and there was light pouring in from every angle. They had walked in from the garage, which boasted an emerald green convertible and a nice mountain bike hanging on the wall, and stepped into a very well-organized mudroom. Draco had tons of pairs of shoes and casual jackets neatly hung; he was clearly a man of good means and very fashionable. None of this was new news for Hermione.

“I'm excited for you to see the kitchen,” Draco smiled, placing the water bottles down on the mudroom countertop and hiking her bag over his shoulder before grabbing her hand.

After a quick tour, she was pretty certain Draco spent at least $5 million on the house itself and renovations after seeing the stainless steel appliances, gorgeous furniture and fancy paintings she couldn’t quite place on the walls. Like any regular HGTV viewer, she could suss out an expensive home when she saw one.

And it was indeed a home; one with six bedrooms and nine baths, of course, but a home nonetheless. She loved it.

“Why don’t we go sit in the family room,” Draco suggested. “I have the same couch as I do in DC, I couldn't find one I liked better, so I bought the same one for each house.”

That was as Draco as a statement ever was.

“Can I borrow clothes first, please?” she asked. Sure, leggings were comfortable, but if she could put on Draco’s clothes that meant taking her bra off and not having a cheap elastic waistband hugging her hips. There were definitely perks to him being so much bigger than her, and loose clothes was top of the list.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Hermione dreaded the conversation they were about to have, and knew she was going to crumble into pieces as soon as Draco asked her a question or gave her a gentle look.

She may have been tired, but she wasn’t dumb. Draco was wound tight and likely had been since she’d called him in the middle of a panic attack hours earlier.

Not that she’d gone into work that morning expecting a call that her mom hadn’t shown up to work and then another one from the police that she was being taken to the hospital only a few minutes later.

Thankfully, Remus hadn’t even asked her to explain why she wanted to go home, he just waved her out of the office and told her to take a long weekend. It seemed that being able to leave without question was a perk of being a hard worker. She wondered if it was that easy for Tonks to go home when she asked.

And, more than anything, she was grateful for her own ability to overcome her fear of letting people in for long enough to call Draco. She was barely able to get a word out when the call connected, sobbing so hard that he told her he was booking her on the next flight to Charlotte with no questions asked or answered. She had touched down a little over two hours after that point, and she was both impressed and thankful. No one deserved a man like Draco.

Especially her.

Draco was a self-proclaimed king of comfort and indulgence, which Hermione couldn’t find fault in. True to form, the man pulled out a fuzzy grey blanket from the wicker basket next to his couch and tucked it over himself and Hermione when they’d finally sat down. There was an unopened box of Kleenex, the fancy kind with lotion somehow imbued in them, on the glass table in front of the couch, which showed just how quickly Draco had worked after getting her on a flight.

“What happened, Hermione? You really scared me, love. I had no idea what was going on when you called.” Draco started, pulling one of her hands into his lap. Whether it was for his comfort or hers, she didn’t know.

She took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story.”

“I have all of the time in the world,” Draco replied.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing that he had something like five farmer’s markets to visit and a spaghetti dinner at a local firehouse tonight. All clearly cancelled because of her.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Now, just focus on telling me what’s going on, please. I won’t interrupt.”

Hermione nodded. She could follow directions.

“I’ve never told this story before, so I might be all over the place. And I’m a bit… frazzled.”

“Hermione,” Draco nodded firmly, his eyes egging her on.

“Sorry, I’m nervous. Well… when I was in eighth grade, my parents were gone a lot. They had two dental offices, and would split their time between both locations. But they started leaving me at friends' houses so late that I ended up sleeping over. They even missed the initial meeting with my English teacher who called me uncreative. But when I looked to adults to see if they were worried, no one was, so I tried to ignore it.”

“Mom was a family dentist and dad was an oral surgeon, so their schedules were always booked. They didn’t have many friends and they’re both only children, so my mom’s parents and I were the only ones close enough to notice if anything was wrong.”

She looked up at Draco, a man who knew nothing but the fierce, protective love of a family with wide brown eyes. He was looking back at her with concern in his own; she just hoped it would still be there when he knew everything, a life that he could never truly fathom.

“Er- I was always kind of awkward and bookish, I didn’t have many friends growing up… I still don’t, honestly. But that summer, between eighth and ninth grade, I remember asking my mom for money to go to the movies after being invited by some girls. She started crying and screaming at me, saying we didn’t have money to spend on movies.

“I remember running upstairs and locking the door to my room. I barricaded myself in with my dresser, but she never even tried to come in. The house was silent, and looking back, I think she just passed out.”

Draco had been stone still until she took a deep breath, taking her hand to his lips like he couldn’t bear not to comfort her. Like he needed her to be okay as much as she needed to be okay… it was a power she’d never wielded over another individual before. She didn’t know if it was one she deserved.

“I remember reading the term emotional terrorism online once, and that’s the only way I can describe that summer. My dad had always been home less than my mom since he performed surgeries on Saturdays, but I just couldn’t breathe every time I heard his footsteps.

“I… I came back from a sleepover once and dad was just sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes were all red and he had a bunch of papers in front of him. I asked what he was working on and he just held them up to my face and asked what I had done. There were just scribbles all over blank printer paper, and he was spitting mad, just shaking the papers in my face like it was supposed to mean something to me.”

Hermione reached to grab the water bottle with a shaking hand, grateful for the nozzle so that she didn’t spill all over the fuzzy crewneck she’d borrowed from Draco.

“I’d been spending a lot of time with my mom’s parents who also live in Seattle, but they said mom and dad were just stressed. There was nothing more than that from the only adults who knew my parents well enough to help. It wasn’t really a slow decline by the time I started ninth grade, it was like a freight train crashing into the suburban normalcy that I’d grown up in.

“Then.... mom threw a vase at me when I asked if we could go shopping for a homecoming dress,” Hermione’s lips wobbled for the first time, and Draco’s hand tightened around her own.

“It missed me, but that was the moment I realized that things weren’t normal. I went to see my grandma and asked again if she’d talked to mom, and she assured me that they were just stressed. I was a ninth grader, Draco… there just wasn’t really anywhere to turn unless I called the police on my own parents. There was really no option but to get through it.

“There were only a few months that things were really bad at home; they stopped going to the grocery store, we couldn’t turn the HVAC on because dad thought it was releasing poison into the house, and they’d bring strangers over and shut themselves in the basement at all hours of the night. They’d still go into work, and grandma just seemed unwilling to entertain the fact that anything was different, even though she let me sleepover most nights.

“So when I was with them, I just barricaded myself in my room all of the time. All I focused on was getting good grades and then leaving and never coming back.”

She was surprised to find her words coming quickly, like they had been bouncing around inside and couldn’t wait to be shared with the world. Which, to be fair, they probably had.

“Sorry, I’m almost done… In April of freshman year, I came home from school one day and mom was at the kitchen table sobbing. It wasn’t a new scene; her moods were erratic, but thankfully she was less angry than my dad. She told me that he was in jail.

“That night showed me just how far out of it she was; when the police showed up with a warrant, she just let them in without even trying to hide their tracks. The police uncovered at least $10,000 worth of opioids in the basement, and my dad’s phone was full of texts and emails selling people nitrous oxide tanks and other prescription pills from their dental practice.”

She couldn’t help but chance a glance up at that, to see if Draco’s expression had turned to disgust. She’d done the calculus, once, twice, a million times, tossing and turning in her bed late at night as their relationship had taken a clear turn towards longevity. She was a liability to someone like Draco… someone who was untouched by the very forces that’d rocked her entire world. She didn’t know what to think when his expression was the same as before, if not more intense; concerned, protective… caring. So she kept talking.

“Dad’s still in prison. Medical malpractice and selling prescription drugs. Turns out he’d botched someone’s wisdom teeth surgery and they’d opened up a case. But the day he was arrested, he got angry and stabbed someone with a surgical tool during a routine cleaning.

“Both patients are okay, thank God. I’m still not sure what happened exactly, but I think he took the fall for everything in court. Mom got off without any charges. He’ll be out at some point next year on good behavior if he continues down the path he’s on.”

She took deep breath, trying not to panic at the knowledge that Draco now knew every dirty bit of her life that she’d gone to great lengths to hide. What would a man like him even have to say about her family?

“Sweetheart… my brave Hermione. Why don’t you take another sip of water?” Draco instructed in a sugary sweet drawl, focusing on his girl’s physical needs right now. “Good girl. Thank you for telling me this… I can’t imagine that it was comfortable to relive, let alone share with someone else. I am in awe of your bravery and strength. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this, sweetheart. You must’ve felt so alone, and I just need you to know you’re not dealing with this by yourself anymore.

“I have to ask, what set you off on the phone earlier? I couldn’t understand what you were saying as much as I tried, and you haven’t mentioned how your mom is doing.”

Hermione’s eyes bubbled up with tears again, hands covering her face and muffling her sobs.

Draco stroked her hair, speaking quiet reassurances into her ear.

“She’s in the hospital, they found her passed out at their house today. I think she relapsed… she’d been sober for almost seven years.”

The man’s self control seemed to lapse at that, and Hermione let herself go once she was wrapped in his tight embrace. She had no idea how long they sat there, Draco’s arms unwavering from where they held her trembling body to his own.

“Not to seem coldhearted, but what was the last that you heard?”

“No, you’re good,” Hermione sniffled, wanting to reassure him. “A police chaplain called to give me an official notification that mom is at the hospital. Mrs. Mullens who works with her called me earlier today because mom didn’t show up to work yesterday or today. She’s been healthy. She was even working as a secretary at the middle school I went to. I told Mrs. Mullens I hadn’t heard from her… so she called the police and they went to the house.”

“Did they give you any contact information?” Draco asked.

She nodded, pulling out her phone and handing it over. “I wrote down his name and number.”

“Would you want to call back together? I’m sure they have more information by now, but most police departments call next-of-kin immediately when possible.”

Hermione knew she needed to call, but dreaded it. What could the police tell her that she needed to hear?

“It’s incredibly complicated, Draco.”

“I’m sure, but I’m still here to listen,” Draco reminded her.

“I moved in with my grandparents almost immediately, and we discovered in the trial that he and my mother had spent my entire college fund and most of their retirement on drugs. Everything they’d worked towards was gone, and that’s saying something for two individuals who’d long paid off their mortgage and schooling. So I was not too far off the money when I’d just locked myself into my room to study, because I wouldn’t have been able to go to college without a scholarship. They squandered literally everything we had without a thought.”

“And your mom?” Draco asked, not wanting to dive into his consoling until he had the facts, as tough as it was not to wrap Hermione up and never let her go.

“She was angry. Dad took the fall like I said, but that left her alone. Without me. Her parents were upset and tried to be supportive, but they didn’t understand why they’d throw their lives away like they did. They’re older… addiction doesn’t really invoke a sense of sympathy from them. But Mrs. Mullens, the lead secretary at my middle school, offered mom a job. Grandma promised mom was doing well, but clearly something changed.”

Draco just nodded, fingers rubbing his jaw as he thought through everything he’d just heard. This was not what he was expecting. Of course he’d googled the Grangers a bit and felt surprised at virtually nothing being posted about their dental practice outside of a few old reviews on the White Pages website. There was no Yelp, no Zocdoc, no website, no Facebook page… as though their practice had ceased to exist prior to the importance of online reviews. Which would make complete sense with the timeline Hermione had just laid out.

“You are incredibly brave, Hermione. And even more resilient than I can imagine; I’m not sure that there’s any time in a relationship, romantic or platonic, that bringing this up would happen easily. So thank you for sharing this piece of your life with me.”

She huffed a laugh, leaning her head onto Draco’s shoulder.

“What’s funny is that I honestly don’t even think about them anymore. Dad told my grandparents that he didn’t want me visiting him in prison, and after two years of him not writing me back, I just stopped. My therapist told me that it wasn’t worth it to expend energy and emotion on people who weren’t reciprocating the time and energy that I put into them, and she was right. I’m happy that dad’s getting out, truly, but I just can’t find a place for him in the life that I’ve built. It may sound cruel, but I don’t think I have the capacity for forgiveness right now, I don’t.”

“Hermione, I’m never going to tell you to forgive anyone who's hurt you. No one has the right to, okay? I tease you, but I mean it… your capacity to love and treat others kindly is really incredible. Just because you can love people well, though, doesn’t mean you need to love everyone. Healthy boundaries will keep you from going crazy, and you are the only one who can set them for yourself.”

She smiled up at him with red cheeks and watery eyes. He thought she was even more beautiful than the first day he’d met her.

“You sound like my therapist.”

“Oh yeah? Hopefully that means I’m talking sense, then. Do you still see someone?”

She shook her head, “I stopped when I moved out here and I was no longer on my grandparents’ insurance… at that point it was just maintenance and more me complaining about school and stress than anything else, though, so I felt okay to stop.”

“I’m glad you were able to seek help, that’s a step above what most people do for themselves. If you need to talk to someone, though, there are free counselors through work.”

Hermione knocked her forehead against his bicep. “I like that you know the resources available to us at work. You’re a good man.”

Draco gave into his desires and kissed her forehead. “I want to be good to my staff, and that means knowing how to help them in any situation.”

“You are good to your staff, Draco. I haven’t heard Pansy seriously complain about you once.”

The man laughed. “I also let Pansy take a two week vacation to Italy even though she hasn’t accrued that much paid time off, so I don’t think she can complain.”

Hermione shook her head, “Oh, but she will. Pansy could always find something to complain about.”

Draco smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me… now, let’s see about calling the police department back and seeing if there’s more information. My thought is that if you have the complete picture, you can figure out how to move forward, especially if there’s a chance they haven’t contacted your grandparents. Does that work for you?”

She clicked her teeth together rapidly in a way that had Draco shuddering. That was a bad habit he hadn’t seen her exercise before.

“Would you stay with me while I call? And make sure I ask all of the right questions so I don’t have to call back?”

“Hermione, I flew you here to make sure that you were taken care of and not alone,” Draco said gently. “That isn’t going to change now that I have the full story, okay?”

She nodded. “It’s just weird, having to bring someone else in on your family problems. I know everyone has some weird family shaped skeletons in their closet, but this is a lot for anyone to take in. I wish I was stuck with a creepy uncle skeleton instead.”

Draco laughed.

“I remind myself of it all of the time, and I’ll do you the same courtesy… we don’t choose what family we’re born into. And we’re not obligated to stay in touch with our family either, especially when they cause you harm. You can feel sad, love, but I don’t want you to feel guilty. Especially if the guilt is because you’re sharing parts of your life with me.”

“Thank you,” she replied, resting her head on Draco’s shoulder. “I’m ready.”

xxx

“This is good,” Hermione smiled, it wasn’t the normal carefree expression she wore when happy, but it was enough for Draco.

“That’s music to my ears. I wanted to take you here, so takeout is the next best thing.”

“What’s it called again?” she asked.

“The Cowfish Burger Bar, but the cool people just call it Cowfish,” Draco informed, getting a small giggle.

“I’m glad to have a cool kid advising me,” she replied, popping another blackened tuna nacho into her mouth.

Draco had ordered almost the entire menu under the guise of wanting her to try everything, but really he was just worried she wouldn’t want to eat.

“Try this,” he prodded, holding a piece of sushi to her mouth.

She nodded as she chewed the sizable bite, holding up a thumb in approval. “Yummy… it’s spicy.”

“It’s a spicy shrimp and crab roll, it’s my favorite. Sometimes I don’t want raw fish and still want sushi, this is the perfect fix.”

“Good choice,” she agreed, licking spicy mayo off her fingers.

“What did you have to cancel today?” Hermione asked, feeling a bit more sturdy after a filling dinner. She watched Draco continue to eat, using chopsticks as though it were second nature. She already knew that he was extremely classy and refined, but it was something else to be able to witness him in action.

He also earned another point in her book for not laughing when she requested a fork.

Draco gave her a disapproving look. “I told you not to worry about me, didn’t I?”

“You can tell me that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still worrying about you,” Hermione scoffed. Men.

“I appreciate your concern, but everything today was easy to cancel. Blaise is more than capable of schmoozing, which is why he travels back and forth with me anyways.”

“Doesn’t he come back to see his wife?”

Draco laughed. “Yes, Luna too. But mostly to schmooze and show off his beloved wife, which is very much in line with the Malfoy agenda. I’ll have to go to two events tomorrow that I can’t miss, and a few more on Saturday.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Hermione replied with a weak smile.

“Too late,” Draco shrugged, clearly not joking. “I was thinking… what if Luna comes over? She’s great company and one of the most peaceful people I know.”

“Doesn’t that put you in a weird spot?”

Draco sighed. “Blaise was at the farmer’s market with me today when you called, I had him drive me back here so I could book your flight. He’s been suspicious the past few months, obviously, but I’m thinking we just talk to him tomorrow.”

Hermione knew that Draco’s chief, Blaise Zabini, was someone he trusted implicitly. He was a few years younger than Draco, but he’d been on his staff since the blond first ran for Congress and worked his way up to the top role on his team.

“Can we just figure it out tomorrow? I’m really tired,” Hermione replied, trying to swallow a yawn at the mention of sleeping.

“Of course. Let’s get you all settled upstairs and then I’ll come clean up.”

It was a testament to how tired Hermione was that she didn’t protest the fact that she wasn’t helping to clean up the exorbitant spread of food in the family room.

“I have a guest room set up for you in case you don’t want to sleep in my room,” Draco explained, holding Hermione’s hand and standing behind her as she walked up the stairs like he thought she was going to topple down.

Hermione had her answer without even thinking about it, which was a first for her.

“Your room… please. I don’t want to be alone.”

She felt pretty bold, but the thought of waking up in a panic and not recognizing the room she was in seemed like a far worse alternative than sharing a bed with Draco. This wasn’t how she pictured their first time sleeping together, but like Draco said… no one picked the timeline that life provided.

“I dropped your bag in there earlier, so that works well, sweetheart. Why don’t you get all set up in the bathroom?”

Draco’s bathroom was opulent with a double sink, a large jacuzzi-style bathtub and shower. What kind of person had a shower and a bathtub stationed in opposite corners of the same bathroom? Draco Malfoy did.

She felt much better after brushing her teeth and pulling her hair back; Hermione was firmly in the ‘shower after you travel’ camp, but tonight was a different story. The sooner the day was over, the better.

Draco was standing near the right side of the large, white duvet covered bed. She could see that he’d already pulled the covers back and had to hide a smile.

He, however, had already caught the expression and his face melted into a fond look she didn’t feel she deserved.

“I’ve been told I’m talented at most things I dabble in, but I’ve never tucked a sweet thing like you into bed. So I’ll be happy to take any constructive criticism.”

If only people knew what a softie he was.

Draco tucked her in tightly, pressing kisses to her forehead, both cheeks and lips before pulling back and brushing a stray curl behind her ear. His technique was flawless, and she told him as much. Leave it to Draco to be good at everything, no matter the task.

Hermione’s eyes met his, and he looked a bit uncertain.

“What?” she asked. That wasn’t a look she liked to see on his normally confident face.

“Would you mind if I prayed over you?” Draco asked.

Hermione gave him a small smile and nodded; the man always prayed before they ate together, which is something that her parents had stopped doing back in middle school. His private shows of faith meant a lot to her; it was a small thing, but she felt unspeakably lucky as Draco’s low, calming voice cried out for her heart’s healing and for her to be wrapped in protection and strength.

She knew deep down that if they were to get married, this would be the moment she recounted when their friends and family, maybe even their children, asked when she knew he was the one. Squinting an eye open, she watched Draco with one large hand pressed to her shoulder and the other held loosely in the air, fingers cupped towards the ceiling. He looked calm and relaxed while words of praise and love for her were on his lips, like praying for her was as easy as breathing. This was the moment.

“Want me to stay until you fall asleep?” he asked afterwards, crawling gently onto the bed after she nodded and using one large finger to wipe stray tears from her eyes.

She was out like a light only moments later, unable to remember what Draco had been whispering in her ear as she nodded off.

xxx

The next morning was more than a bit jarring. Waking up in a state she’d never visited and in bed with a man, albeit a fully dressed one, for the first time was overwhelming.

Hermione hopped up and made her way into the bathroom, locking the door and turning the shower on. As much as she wanted to take a bath, she didn’t want to chance Draco needing to come in while she soaked.

Thoughtful as ever, he’d set two towels on the shower’s shelf.

Her curls would’ve never stayed tame in the North Carolina heat without her specialized products, the only goods that she ever felt okay to splurge on, and it was one of the only things she’d tossed into the carry-on bag that she’d stolen from Pansy’s closet. The consequences of her frizzy, untamed curls were far too much to think about while living and working in a literal swamp. Expensive shampoo and conditioner was the only way forward.

Changing into a new pair of underwear and yet another dark gray Tar Heels shirt and shorts, Hermione hung the towels carefully and walked back into the bedroom. Draco was awake and scrolling on his phone, looking far too handsome and still boasting no chin rolls.

“Everything to your liking?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied, eyes widening as she heard her croaky voice. She didn’t expect that, but after a day full of crying, it probably wasn’t too surprising. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love. Now, we have a few options. We can eat breakfast, I’ll leave you here alone and be back around 2pm. Or Luna and Blaise can come over with breakfast and she’ll stay here with you while I’m gone. We’ll need to explain what’s going on to Blaise at some point. As much as I don’t want to add something else to your plate right now, this will make it easier for us going forward.”

“What do you want to do?” Hermione replied, not really knowing the answer. “I am serious when I say it doesn’t matter to me; this is your life and your career, Draco. Just choose whatever you see as the best option of telling Blaise.”

“I think we have them come over this morning and get it out of the way. It’s better that Luna’s here when we talk, she keeps Blaise calm.”

“That sounds good to me, love.”

Hermione waved Draco into the bathroom so she could make the bed up neatly. It was a bit of a thing; she didn’t like starting the day without knowing her bed looked nice, and she’d do the same for him. Honestly, it was the least she could do after all he’d done the past 24 hours.

She could hear Draco brushing his teeth and took the moment to look down at her phone and noticed that there were two missed calls from her grandmother. Hermione had texted the woman last night to let her know she’d talked to the police, and that she’d connect in the morning.

It was already 9:30am, which was far later than Hermione normally slept in.

“I’m going to call my grandma,” Hermione said, peeking her head into the bathroom where Draco was now gargling mouthwash.

“Hermione?” the woman asked, sounding alert despite the early hour as the call connected. The woman loved to garden when no one else was awake, and Hermione was sure she’d already spent hours tending to the plants. It was a good stress reliever if nothing else for the retired accountant.

“Hi grandma. How are you?” she asked.

“As well as I can be, dear. I don’t mean to bother you at work, but I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay,” the woman replied.

She, like Hermione’s mother, wasn’t the most nurturing of individuals. Hermione was grateful that they took her in, though, so she could finish up high school in Seattle. It was hard, though,to stay in touch with them. The fact that she knew her grandparents were retired made it clear they had every opportunity to reach out to her first, even though she was the one who texted or called 99.9 percent of the time. So that basically settled that for her.

“I’m well,” Hermione replied. She wasn’t fully lying either, she just was not at work or even in the District of Columbia. “Getting the call was a bit of a shock, but I just don’t know what else we can do… I haven’t talked to mom in months.”

The older woman sighed, “Me neither, not for lack of effort on my part.”

“Did you go see her?”

“Your grandfather and I visited last night,” the woman replied. “She’s going back into treatment once she’s fully recovered, looks like she broke a bone in her finger when she fell and is a bit dehydrated. You don’t worry about us, okay? You know as well as grandpa and I that we’ve done all we can, as much as we wish there was more to do. Just focus on your job, make some friends, go on some dates… You’re only young once, dear.”

Hermione smiled a bit, “Yes, grandma. Thank you. I love you. Tell grandpa hi from me.”

“Certainly dear, once the bag of lazy bones wakes up.”

She felt lighter as she hung up, noticing a fully-dressed Draco for the first time. The man was dressed in dark wash jeans that weren’t quite skinny, but also far from the baggy ‘dad jeans’ that’d gotten President Shacklebolt blasted in the news. His shirt was sky blue oxford rolled up his forearms.

“I’ve never seen you this casual for a day in public,” she noted.

Draco did a small flourish of his hands up and down his body. “Like what you see? This is North Carolina congressman casual. It's how I show that I’m a man of the people.”

Hermione nodded, swallowing a laugh. She definitely liked North Carolina congressman casual.

“Blaise and Luna should be here soon,” Draco said with a small frown down at his watch. “He said that she’d been baking all night, which was unusual for her, but she felt she’d need a lot of food to get through the weekend.”

“Is she… psychic or something?” Hermione asked. Just who was Draco’s chief married to?

Draco tipped his hand back and forth. “She has some version of the sight… her great great great great grandmother was one of four women tried and executed in South Carolina witch trials back in the late 1700s… I wouldn’t put it past her to have a bit of magic in her, you’ll see when you meet her.”

“I’m both scared and intrigued,” Hermione replied. “Will they mind if I’m in sweats?”

“Absolutely not, and if they did, I still wouldn’t care. I told you that you wouldn’t need anything fancy this weekend, and I meant it… all you need to focus on is relaxing.”

“That’s harder than it sounds,” Hermione sighed.

“I say this as a good thing; your office won’t even notice that you’re missing when we’re out of session. There’s nothing going on. So take a break, relax, and let me serve you… okay?”

“If you insist,” Hermione sighed, unable to hide the small smile on her face at his doting.

“I certainly do insist on it, ma’am!” Draco replied in an exaggerated accent that had Hermione laughing and sharing the story of what’d happened back at the disastrous dinner with Harry.

Draco had immediately agreed that Pansy was a force to be respected and treated carefully, though he objected to the term big ma’am energy. Hermione was so entranced by the tranquility of a North Carolina morning with Draco that she was shocked at the sound of the garage opening.

“He said we’re too close for him to use the front door,” Draco shrugged.

Hermione had pulled her curls back into a french braid after her shower, but was now second guessing it. There was a weirdness in this; she was being introduced to people who knew Draco well enough to have his garage code and just walk into his house; and here she was, showering at his house and wearing his pajamas. It was like friends and family against significant others; two very important, yet diverging paths in someone’s life that ultimately had to come together. Relationships were weird, and Hermione didn’t understand how so many people had successful marriages when so much went into making one work.

“I knew something was happening today,” a beautiful blonde smiled as an attractive duo walked in from the mudroom.

Her hair was a little less curly than Hermione’s, but similarly colored to Draco’s and pulled over her shoulder in a fishtail braid. She had on a flowy white tunic dress that made her look classy and cool at the same time. “I’m Luna.”

Hermione’s expression must’ve shown her surprise at being tugged off of the kitchen chair she’d been perched on and into Luna’s arms, because Draco gave her a wink when she looked over the other girl’s shoulders.

“Hi Luna,” she smiled, trying to put her best foot forward for the people who were important to Draco, even if it meant a hug with a stranger. “It’s nice to meet you… I’m Hermione.”

“It’s a real pleasure.”

The woman was a literal southern doll; she was just a bit taller than Hermione was, but she was long and lithe in a modelesque way that short people rarely were. Her blue eyes were framed by natural lashes, and her skin was smooth and clear even though it was obvious she had no makeup on. Something was definitely in the water down here with people like her and Draco walking around.

“Blaise,” Draco said next, voice a bit serious. “I’d like you to meet Hermione Granger.”

“Miss Granger, like my darling wife said, it’s a pleasure,” the dark-skinned man smiled.

His accent was a bit thicker than Draco’s, but less pronounced than Luna’s.

“Just Hermione,” she corrected with what she hoped to be a kind smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Blaise. I’ve heard so much about you.”

His eyes widened for a second in recognition. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Hermione that our Pansy often speaks of?”

She blushed. What was Pansy saying? “That would be me, but hopefully you know Pansy well enough already to take everything she says with a grain of salt.”

Blaise laughed, “This all makes a lot more sense now, I’d say…”

“How’s that?” Draco asked.

“Pansy loves to talk about her smart, beautiful best friend, but now that I think about it, she only ever does so when Draco is around.”

“Oh gosh,” Hermione groaned, covering her face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about that.”

“She’s loyal,” Luna smiled, a serene look that wouldn’t be out of place on a fairy from an old-fashioned children’s book. “Loyal friends are hard to come by… and I think they’ll be even more important for you in the days ahead.

Draco nodded at that, gesturing for everyone to sit around the table.

Luna took charge, clearly comfortable in Draco’s kitchen. “Let me grab some plates. Blaise, please open everything up and let Hermione load her plate up first.”

“Everything looks good,” Hermione replied honestly, a bit intimidated by the spread of biscuits and gravy, cinnamon rolls, fruit, eggs and bacon. “What’s in the pitcher?”

“Sweet tea, of course,” Luna smiled. “I’m a bit more southern than these two, which means a meal is never complete without a pitcher of tea.”

“I’m excited to try everything. Thank you, Luna.”

“My pleasure,” she smiled. “I’m just glad my sight was accurate.”

“It always is,” Blaise replied, pressing a kiss to his wife’s hand as she sat down. They were a study in opposites; his face was all sharp angles while hers was almost cherubic. Her long flowing locks were almost white while his dark hair was cropped to his head. No one would be able to deny how good they looked together, though, and from what she could tell, they were equally well-matched in personality.

“Now, how’d a sweet thing like you end up here, Hermione?” Luna asked earnestly.

Hermione had to hide a giggle at the thought of Draco saying the same thing a few months ago, quickly locking eyes with him. His wink showed that he remembered the same conversation.

“Well, I actually met Draco while working on the Hill. I needed to get something signed by him, and he walked into the front office as I was asking his scheduler if he was available.”

Draco laughed at her retelling. “Rather, Hermione told Marietta that she wasn’t going to leave the front office until I came out to sign.”

She blushed, but Blaise let out a roaring laugh.

“That was you?” he asked, and she nodded. “Oh, lord, I remember that day. We were all in the back office watching the rap remix of Horace Slughorn getting his jacket stuck in an elevator when he tried to waddle away from cameras.”

“That was her,” Draco smiled, shaking his head at the memory.

“How long ago was that?” Luna asked, cutting up her biscuits and gravy in a dainty that Hermione wasn’t sure she could ever master.

“February,” Draco replied without any nervousness in his voice.

“You first chatted in February or have been together since February?” Luna asked.

Hermione loved a woman who asked the right questions.

“We’ve been together since mid-June.”

“Who knows?” Blaise asked.

Hermione knew enough to see worry on his face.

“You two are the first people we’ve told,” Draco shared.

“I’m happy for you both,” said Blaise. His smile was lukewarm at best.

Hermione could tell there was a but coming.

“Can I speak frankly?”

“Remember who you’re speaking to,” Draco replied. Hermione was a bit shocked; she’d never heard him pull the congressman card with anyone.

“How old are you, Hermione?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m turning 22 next month.”

“Christ on a cracker,” Blaise murmured, getting a pinch on his arm from Luna in reprimand. Whether for the language or sentiment, the younger woman didn’t know. “Sorry, this is just… not what I expected from you, Draco.”

“There’s nothing to expect when it comes to the ways of love,” Luna replied, rolling her eyes like Blaise was being a fool for not accepting Draco’s relationship with a woman half his age. Hermione appreciated her support.

“You’re right, Luna, as you usually are. This was… unexpected for both of us, but I’m not keen to keep it from you both. Both for professional and personal reasons, it’s better if at least one other person knows that we’re together,” Draco nodded at Luna warmly.

“I’m happy for you both,” Luna smiled. “Love is often unexpected and it is always beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, reaching out for Draco’s hand under the table. “It’s a bit odd for you both, I’m sure, but I’m glad that Draco has friends who he can come to.”

“We’re your friend now as well, Hermione,” Luna promised. “Judging by your accent, you aren’t going to be too familiar with a big old southern family, but now you’re a part of ours.”

“And there’s no getting out of it,” Blaise smirked. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Luna just smiled.

“Not to talk shop, but what are you hoping to do with this, Drake? We’re months from the election,” Blaise reminded him, as though it were breaking news.

“Thanks, I completely forgot,” Draco deadpanned. “Hermione and I have thoroughly discussed this; we’re waiting until after the election to venture out publicly. But I realize that the longer we keep you out of the loop, the more likely we are to slip up.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Blaise replied easily. “What are your plans while here in the Queen City, Hermione?”

Draco cut in, something that would’ve normally annoyed her, but left her grateful. She had no desire to share anything about what was going on with two strangers, no matter Draco’s trust in them.

“Her work gave her a day off today, so she flew out last night at the last-minute. She’ll just be spending time here at my home.”

“You can’t miss today’s events, Draco,” Blaise replied, eyes hard in the same way Remus’ often were when James tried to skip a meeting. She thought they had to have taught the look in chief of staff school, it was that uncanny.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I appreciate your concern. We were thinking Luna could spend the day with Hermione. What do you think?”

“Yes,” Luna agreed enthusiastically. “Perhaps a soak by the pool?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Hermione frowned. Draco had a pool? She hadn’t even gone out back yet, but that honestly didn’t surprise her.

“Down south, we keep bathing suits in our car. You never know when you’ll need one,” Luna consoled.

“I think that’s just Luna, actually,” Blaise replied. “You don’t know how many times I’ve worried she’d die from an obscure disease after forcing me to pull off the road so she can swim in random lakes and creeks.”

Luna shrugged, “It’s a chance I’m willing to take if I can be one with the earth for a while…”

Hermione was very much unlike Luna, but she still liked her all the same. So far, at least. Not that she was surprised; Draco was a picky man, it figured that he’d only surround himself with the best sort of people.

“Last question… do Lucius and Cissa know?”

Draco shook his head, and Hermione could tell how uncomfortable he was with the question. Which, honestly… she knew that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would likely lose their minds when they found out their son was in a relationship with a Democratic staffer half his age. She’d come to terms with that likely reality for the time being, and would leave freaking out for when it was worth freaking out.

“They won’t be informed until after the election. We know how father gets during campaign season, and I’m not going to contribute to a further spiral.”

Blaise just nodded his head at that, like he knew exactly what Draco was referencing.

For now, Hermione counted herself lucky that she didn’t know the ins and outs of Lucius Malfoy’s pre-election emotions.

xxx

“Sorry mother, I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” Draco said, and Hermione had to cover her mouth at his very fake cough. “No, I don’t need to - hello, father. As I told mother, I’m just a bit under the weather. Yes, I have food. Yes, I’m going to sleep. Thank you, love you too, goodnight. Yes, I love you as well mother, goodnight.”

Draco laid back on his bed after that with a smack, letting out a groan. Hermione couldn’t help the peals of giggles that came out of her at the conversation she just witnessed.

“They forget that I’m not 10 sometimes, as you can see,” Draco shared, reaching a hand up to gently yank Hermione towards his body.

She fell on him willingly, bracketing his side and throwing her leg over his thighs in a way that was reminiscent of the first time she’d heard Draco and his mother talk on the phone.

“I think it’s sweet,” she smiled, head fitting perfectly into the crevice of Draco’s armpit. “They seem really nice.”

“Mother’s very sweet,” Draco agreed. “My father can be charming, but he’s also extremely intense.”

“Did you get along with your parents when you were little?” Hermione asked, feeling like the dam was finally breaking on Draco’s willingness to speak about his parents.

“We did. I wanted to be just like him and my grandfather, and they brought me everywhere with them so that I could feel like I was one of them. As a teenager, I was held on a bit of a tight leash due to the nature of his job, but I understood why. There was never a point where I held the typical teenage annoyance with my parents, as shocking as that may be.”

“What about your sister, Columba? Did she ever want to go into politics?”

Draco shook his head, smiling. “She didn’t. Our Dove was far more interested in playing with my pop and granny’s farm animals and playing midwife as they gave birth.”

Hermione widened her eyes, “Oh? Did she go to college?”

“She did, she is a farm veterinarian, actually. She met her husband at vet school.”

“That’s amazing. People who love animals well enough to care for them are always special,” Hermione smiled, before running a hand up through Draco’s hair. “What will she think of us, Draco?”

“She’ll love you,” Draco promised, and Hermione was surprised at the confidence in his voice. “All she’s ever wanted is a sister, and I don’t think she’d be picky with the one that I provide. Her and my mother… they’re lovely, truly. I know you’ll hate when I say it, but they epitomize the term southern belles.”

“I do hate it,” Hermione replied, getting a kiss on her nose in apology.

“You know exactly what I’m saying without me explaining it, though. I mean, anyone who meets Luna would think she’s a perfect doll.”

“She is!” Hermione yelped in her new friend’s defense.

Draco squinted at Hermione. “Luna is a South Carolina princess, sugar. She can play ball with the best of them, the same way my mother and sister were raised to. What they look like to others has no bearing on who they are in private. You think that the men meeting my sister at galas thought she’d become a veterinarian? Absolutely not… they had dreams of her barefoot and pregnant, giving them unfettered access to father and grandfather.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? Women should just be able to do whatever they want. Whether that’s a job or kids, there shouldn’t be a question of whether or not that’s acceptable,” Hermione huffed, tracing Draco’s chest through his thin Lululemon top.

“And you’re right, but you’re talking to southern men who take a woman wanting to work as an offense.”

“If their logic is that they have enough money for their wife not to work, then why do they work themselves? All of the families have old money.”

“Because that’s what men do,” Draco shrugged. “I’m just parroting their argument back to you, so don’t shoot the messenger.”

“It’s archaic and despicable! Your sister is brave for bucking the system and doing what truly makes her happy. Did your parents get upset?”

“Well… Columba didn’t get married until 23, and by that point I was 28 and single, so… I can’t say they were too happy with either of us. But after she got married, they didn’t really care what she did.”

“Can I ask now?” Hermione whispered, nuzzling her face against Draco’s ear.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, but you haven’t,” Draco replied, a small smile on his face.

“I didn’t know if it was the right time, and we’ve been talking through FaceTime the past month… that’s hardly the best way to have important conversations.”

Draco laughed. “I’ve actually found that not being with someone makes it far easier to have tough conversations. If I could fire people or cancel scheduled events through text, life would be a whole lot better.”

Hermione shook her head, nudging Draco’s shoulder now that she felt a bit braver in their dynamic. It felt different, being back with Draco after a month of talking on the phone and FaceTiming everyday. She hadn’t had much of a chance to miss him, thankfully, but hearing his voice and seeing his smile through her phone’s old camera made her even more eager for a time when they’d be able to be together without puzzling their schedules together.

“I take it you want to know why a handsome man like me is still unmarried at 40?” he asked.

“I do want to know,” she replied. “But my question was more along the lines of, why is a handsome, intelligent, extremely kind man like you still unmarried at 40?”

“There you go with your sweetness again, sugar.” Draco’s body relaxed a bit at her ribbing, something that made her feel better. The man was always seemingly unaffected by tough topics, so seeing him tense up a bit had her a little anxious.

“Growing up with stories from two sets of grandparents and your own grandparents about how they fell in love in high school and were married before graduation gives you a bit of a complex, a higher set of expectations than most people could ever imagine. The words true love, soulmates, perfect match and instant connection were thrown around at every family gathering I went to and in every man-to-man talk my father ever gave me… it made dating hard.

“I saw everything that was wrong with even the loveliest girls before I’d even heard what their favorite movie was. Their laugh was too loud, they were dismissive of my favorite waiter at a restaurant, they showed up five minutes late... The best way of describing it is that I expected a rightness in our interactions to sink in immediately. That I’d just know that they were right the moment we sat down. The voice in my head telling me that these women were wrong was far louder than the voice in my head telling me to get to know them before I made a judgement; thus was born the press’ favorite nickname, First Date Draco.”

Hermione wrapped her left arm around him and squeezed him in a horizontal hug. He was better than anyone would ever know.

“It only got harder when I was elected to office, of course, both because of the expectations that came with being me and the scrutiny that came with being a rich 30-year-old bachelor. There was one woman that mother set me up with... she told me she’d been a beard before for an actor, so she felt well-suited to marriage with me as long as I’d let her take trips with her friends to Europe. There was really no point in trying, not when I’d come home regretting spending time on failed attempts to find a wife rather than getting to know my colleagues and building up my staff once I’d come to Washington.

“Then I met you, sweet girl, and the judgemental voice in my head was quiet. I don’t know how to keep from being cheesy, Hermione, but it just seems to make sense to me despite everything that’s telling us we’re wrong for being together.”

She wasn’t surprised when Draco’s lips met hers, but smiled into the kiss nonetheless. It was a promise more than anything, a locking in of everything that he’d said to be honest and true.

“We aren’t wrong,” Hermione shook her head. “We make sense together, and I don’t expect everyone to understand. Do I wish I could believe that a majority of people will be happy for us? Certainly, but that’s not how the world works.”

“Not to turn this completely into a scene from The Notebook, but I agree, sweetheart. We’re going to have people in our corner, and at the end of the day, we can just continue to live how we’ve been living. The only difference is that I’ll get to show off my girl on dates and fly you down here to meet my constituents. Do you know how many old southern ladies are going to be pinching your cheeks and asking to pray for you at church on Sundays?”

Hermione’s laugh was a sound of pure joy, “I thought they were trying to set their granddaughters up with you? Won’t that ruin their diabolical plans?

“Some of them will certainly be upset, but most will simply be happy because I’m happy. And that’s what I’m going to focus on.”

“Thank you for sharing with me, Draco. It’s a bit weird, this part of relationships… telling each other how we feel and just hoping that the other will accept it as easily as they do our favorite color or least favorite food. I’m just grateful you make it so easy. This whole weekend… I needed this.”

‘I needed you’ was what she left unsaid.

“Feeling’s mutual, baby,” Draco smiled before pulling her fully onto his lap for a kiss. With the week that she’d had, she was more than happy to forget a world outside of just the two of them. So she kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS (not main characters): mentioned prescription drug use & overdose
> 
> I hope you all made it through this just fine. There is not going to be a ton of angst going forward, but this was an important conversation to get out of the way! Let me know what you think, as always. Lots of love! Stay safe, stay happy, stay healthy. Find me on tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thank you so much to the amazing EllesJourney on Tumblr (Elle_Morgan_Black on AO3) for this GORGEOUS cover art. I'm still swooning over it; what a talent they are! Check it out and give them some love: https://ellesjourney.tumblr.com/post/636279789254311936/this-story-is-the-older-draco-american-political


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!!!!! Hope you all are safe and healthy and living your best weekend life. Thank you so much for the love! I love knowing your thoughts, they mean the world to me.
> 
> A big hearty hug and thank you to the sweet and brilliant Elle Morgan-Black for editing this chapter and painstakingly digging through my wild story outline with me to get this bad boy up to snuff! You are the absolute best.

**September 19, 2018**

“Hi,” Hermione beamed, accepting Draco’s tight hug and kiss as she walked into his home.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” the man whispered into the kiss, refusing to let her go even though they were in his doorway. She couldn’t find it in herself to care about any of the implications of the wrong person walking by when his lips were on hers.

“Beep beep, this is a thoroughfare, please move!” Pansy said a moment later. Including the fact that Pansy was there; they were far past that at this point, what with the FaceTimes and Draco randomly popping over after he finished his long days.

Draco gave her a sharp look. “Your invitation can be revoked rather easily, Miss Parkinson.”

“As if Hermione would celebrate without me,” Pansy confidently retorted. “And you asked me to buy the wine, so… if I’m gone, you’re SOL.”

“She can stay,” Blaise shouted from somewhere further in the house.

“Did I mess up your nails?” Draco asked a moment later.

Hermione shook her head, smiling at his worry and wiggling her now maroon nails in his face. “They’re gel, you can’t mess them up.”

“Good,” Draco breathed.

“Thank you, by the way. That was far too kind,” Hermione replied before frowning. “Besides the whole getting me out of work part. How did you pull that anyways?”

Draco laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “That was all Pansy. She didn’t tell you?”

“She said it was your idea,” Hermione replied, eyes narrowing. “What did you two do?”

“I’ll let Pansy fill you in. I’m a congressman, sugar, I don’t take part in schemes of any kind. You know better than to think that.”

Pansy let out a cackle, walking further into the house where Luna had already joined Blaise on the couch.

“Let me set the scene... Draco invited James and Remus to our office for what he dubbed a ‘pre-election check-in meeting.’ Yours truly was seated at the front desk and Draco was, of course, unable to come out right away which gave me ample time to throw out a line. Like his son, your boss ate my shit right up. All it took was, ‘Oh! Hi sir, remember me? Pansy Parkinson?’ For his cheeks to turn bright red and his eyes to brighten with the hope of a man whose wife just wants adorable little grandchildren.”

“Then what?” Hermione prodded.

“Then I said… ‘Congressman, Mr. Lupin, pardon my impudence, but I was hoping to see if I could get Hermione off an hour early on her birthday tomorrow. She just works so hard, and I was hoping to celebrate with her! No worries if not… she’d never tell you it’s her birthday, anyways, sweet girl she is.’”

“You sound like an awful TV villain. And they know it’s my birthday; Penelope adds it to the calendar and we eat cake.”

“Point is, I succeeded. And you got out of cheapy factory-made sponge cake from Walmart. Now we’re here, having spent the afternoon getting our nails done while Theo manned the front desk.”

“Theo?” Luna asked, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

Pansy let out a laugh that echoed, smiling somewhat viciously down at her toenails that were now Barbie pink. Clearly, Pansy did not let the seasons dictate her color choices.

“We have no interns until next week, and our staff assistant is already back in the district for the campaign. Theo is the best option we had, which is a testament to the lack of rigor in Mr. M’s hiring processes.”

“Pansy!” Hermione and Luna admonished at the same time. They shared an approving look afterwards, making it clear that Hermione finally found an ally in Pansy-taming, or rather, as much as Pansy could be tamed.

Draco just shook his head, pulling Hermione closer to his side.

“Let the record show just how competent this one is to get away with making statements like this and not get the boot,” Blaise replied.

“It’s clear you all went through a lot to celebrate me today, so thank you,” Hermione smiled.

“We love you, Hermione,” Luna replied.

Hearing those words from someone she’d known less than a month would’ve been weird and off putting if it wasn’t Luna. The woman was lovely and had taken to texting Hermione random memes and articles like they’d known each other for years. Hermione honestly loved it; healthy, easy female friendships were a gift she’d rarely experienced.

“Dinner should be here soon,” Draco shared. “And no, I’m not telling you what it is.”

“I hate surprises,” Hermione huffed.

“And I am a master of secrets,” Draco replied in her ear, barely watching as Pansy picked up the remote and started fiddling with the buttons.

“That’s good for your job and general politicking, but I hate it when I’m involved.”

“That’s some rotten luck you have there, sugar,” Draco replied teasingly. “I picked well, I promise.”

“I’m sure you did, but this is already far too much.”

“You think I wasn’t going to celebrate you?” Draco asked, chin pressed against her shoulder and lips against her ear like their friends and his employees weren’t right there. Like it didn’t even matter if they were.

“I knew you were, I just wish I knew how.”

“You will soon, but my lips are sealed until dinner is here,” Draco replied.

Pansy had turned on season 1 of Schitt’s Creek after playfully harping at Blaise and Luna for being behind on the times.

Hermione was content to just play with Draco’s fingers while they watched, soaking in their limited time together before he headed back to North Carolina until after the election.

Draco hopped up when the doorbell rang, fiddling in his tight trousers for his wallet.

“Give me a minute to set up, I’ll call you when you can come in,” Draco instructed, but Luna took that as her cue to get up and follow him.

Pansy looked at Hermione knowingly after the newly 22-year-old could no longer follow the movements of Draco’s tight body. She had the decency to blush, getting a smirk in reply from Pansy. Thankfully Blaise was too wrapped up in the first episode of the Rose family’s misfortune to notice the blatant ogling of his boss’ body. But honestly… would he blame her?

“Come on in!” Luna’s voice called, echoing enough that Hermione knew she was in the kitchen.

“Happy birthday, Hermione.” Draco smiled, looking quite smug at her reaction to the ridiculously extravagant and overwhelming spread of food set across the counters.

“What is this?” she asked, eyes wide at the sheer volume of food.

“Lebanese Taverna Market in Arlington. The place you’d read about and wanted to visit, remember?” Draco said, guiding her over to what was clearly the start of their food line.

“Of course I remember! I’m just surprised that you do,” Hermione replied, a grin growing on her face.

“Of course he remembers,” Blaise snorted. “He’s cursed with ‘politician brain.’”

“What’s that even mean?” Hermione asked with a frown.

“It means that he can pull obscure details about random people out of his head in the nick of time, and that he knows enough about his enemies and colleagues to blackmail them if ever necessary. It’s a curse, honestly, remembering who got drunk and came onto you at last year’s arts festival or whose staffer spilt coffee all over a conference room table at a meeting,” Blaise explained.

“I thought that was just called a good memory.”

“No, Hermione, it’s so much more than a good memory,” Blaise insisted. “A good memory doesn’t give you the ability to smile as someone introduces themselves and as soon as they say their name, you remember that your staff assistant took a disturbing call from this very person because their goat died and they thought that the congressman should know. That is a politician brain.”

“That sounds singularly horrifying. Maybe you should try your hand at running for public office?” Hermione asked Blaise with a giggle, nudging Draco’s side. “But thank you, Draco. This is amazing.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair in reply, “Start with the dips and pita, then we have falafel, grape leaves, chicken shawarma, and lamb shawarma… oh, and a tabbouleh salad, because Pansy insisted on a well-rounded meal.”

“It smells so good, too.” Hermione sighed, piling up a plate with everything in front of her. “Did you whip out china for this, Draco?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I did. It’s a special occasion.”

“He’s not wrong,” Pansy agreed, gently stepping in front of her boss so that she would be second to grab food. The woman dropped all guise of professional respect once she’d stepped foot into a private space, and Draco was doing his best not to reprimand her. If only for Hermione’s sake, he thought. Otherwise… he’d have serious problems with the youngest Parkinson who was far more like her father than Draco knew she thought herself to be.

Dinner was just as delicious as Hermione had expected it would be when she found the restaurant and marketplace online a few weeks earlier.

Surprisingly, Draco looked to be enjoying the meal almost as much as she did, which pleased her immensely. The man never seemed too impressed by food, something she figured had to do with being raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and eating more fancy meals before middle school than most Americans would ever have in their life.

“We’ll go to the marketplace and pick up ingredients to make dinner for ourselves after the election. I saw online that they have meat spits right in the shopping center,” Draco said casually as he dipped pita into some bright white garlic spread.

Hermione smiled softly, before laughing. “Our breaths are going to be rancid.”

Draco smirked, leaning in to hold the pita up to her mouth. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as she accepted the bite.

“Hopefully I’m the only one you’ll be kissing tonight, then, sugar.”

After a quick glance to see if their friends were paying attention, which they weren’t, she sucked Draco’s garlic-covered thumb into her mouth in a moment of confidence. By the heated nature of his gaze, she figured that was answer enough.

Dessert ended up being a lovely peach cobbler made by Luna, with fruit that she promised was still perfectly juicy despite nearing the end of the season.

“Thank you all so much,” Hermione smiled as Blaise and Luna insisted on doing dishes. Pansy hadn’t even offered, not that anyone was surprised. “Today was perfect…”

“Open your gifts later and text me what you think, okay?” Luna asked.

“Oh! I can open them now,” Hermione replied, shocked to even hear that they’d bought her gifts.

“No no, you two enjoy your night,” Luna smiled, wiping her hands off on a towel. “Come visit soon, you hear?”

“Absolutely,” Hermione replied, not even feeling the need to look at Draco and see if he wanted her there. Was this the progression of a relationship? Yes… it was. “Thank you for coming up, Luna… you are amazing.”

“My pleasure,” Luna smiled, hugging Hermione and pulling back to pat her cheek in a way that weirdly did not feel patronizing. “Pansy, we’ll drop you off at home.”

“Hermione,” Blaise saluted. “Happy birthday, lil’ gal.”

“Thank you Blaise,” Hermione smiled back, grateful that there was no awkward attempt at a hug. They both knew their respective places in Draco’s life, and that’s all that mattered. No hugs were needed.

Pansy finally hopped up from the table and pulled Hermione into a hug. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, “Love you, sis. Text me if you need me.”

“Love you too, thanks Pans.” Hermione said back just as quietly.

Draco, ever the gentleman, waited until the door was locked and they could no longer hear their friends before picking her up in his arms and pressing a searing kiss to her lips.

This was a new move that Draco had first pulled before they left for her flight home from North Carolina… a hand on her bum, a hand in her hair, and her back against the wall. She was surprised she even made it on the plane.

Pansy, however terrifying her expansive sexual knowledge was to Hermione, had suggested Hermione wear a dress with a loose skirt on her birthday.

“It’ll give him access to what he’s been getting off thinking about,” Pansy had promised, rolling her eyes at Hermione’s own wide-eyed expression.

So Hermione did her best to go along with this plan, rolling her hips as much as one could with Draco’s strong hand on their bum.

“So pretty,” Draco murmured as he trailed hot kisses down her neck, like he couldn’t ever stop himself from telling her just how wonderful he thought she was.

It was a heady power to wield over a man like Draco, and for once, Hermione didn’t feel guilty over the prospect of subjecting someone to her will. Not when he made her just as weak. It was a potential path towards mutual destruction, but neither planned on pumping the brakes. And it was the first good birthday she’d had in years, really, so further thought and restraint could wait.

His dick was clearly hard through his expensive trousers, and Hermione felt a weird smugness at realizing not even expensive, bespoke pants could hide his arousal.

She could feel her panties getting soaked, in a way that not even the whipped cream incident had made them.

“I’ll take care of you,” Draco promised, lowering his hand that was in her hair ever so tentatively, so she knew exactly where it was going. She certainly did, and there was no way she’d stop him. Not when his palm was rubbing her panties, as if to confirm that this was real, that just a few kisses and a show of strength had her soaked. “Oh God, sweetheart, you’re so wet…”

Hermione let out a whimper, pushing her hips back against his lightly probing fingers. She’d always been a good student, and this was no different. She’d done the work; now it was time for Draco to do what he did best. Take confident action and solve problems.

His competence was sexy even with the most boring of topics, and she was more than ready to see how he applied himself when it came to her body. She was ready.

Draco shushed her as he started to walk, taking her into the living room and gently dropping her down on the couch. He was crouched over her on all fours, and she’d never expected that a show of male dominance could be so arousing.

“Is this okay?” Draco asked as he reached beneath her flowy dress once more. Hermione nodded immediately.

Draco’s large fingers hooked in her underwear, the nice ones that Pansy insisted on.

“I need you to tell me that this is okay, Hermione,” Draco replied, sounding far less desperate than she was.

“Yes… it’s okay. Take them off,” Hermione replied. Her chest was heaving. “Please.”

Draco smacked a kiss on her lips, clearly pleased as he dragged her underwear down.

It was a bit of an awkward move, and as much as one prepared themselves for the awkwardness of sex by reading and listening to friends, it didn’t take away the weird fumbling reality.

But Draco was Draco, gently kissing her as she raised her hips far too high for what the task of removing her underwear required, like she was doing a glute exercise at the barre classes Pansy frequented. He didn’t laugh; Hermione would be grateful for that kindness later.

The first touch of his fingers against her heated flesh was everything. She couldn’t even feel dramatic for thinking that she now understood the enticement of pre-marital sex. If the feeling of Draco’s digits sliding through her slick folds, like he was mapping her out and finding the best way to charm her into allowing him inside was indicative of everyone’s experience, she understood.

“Draco,” she whined. There was a weird uncertainty that this moment held; one of anticipation and a mind full of question marks. Was she the Winona Ryder math meme or Hermione Granger? She was Hermione Granger, trying to figure out what came next in this passionate equation.

She kept her hands clenched in the leather of the couch, too afraid to start unbuttoning Draco’s shirt and have him shut her down. For someone who thrived on praise and correct answers, her anxiety was completely taking her out of the moment.

He flipped her dress up so her trimmed patch of hair was visible, a satiny sheen of her arousal on the top part of her inner thighs. And that was only because she’d had her underwear on; if she’d been commando however, she was pretty certain her ankles would be covered in wetness by that point.

“Gorgeous,” Draco crooned, rocking back on his heels so he could look at her. She didn’t even have time to tell him to stop, not when the hunger in his eyes grew as they roved over her sex.

There was no time to think before Draco was on top of her, sliding his tongue against hers as he slipped a finger inside her. She let out a yip, biting his lip as she adjusted to the feeling. Before Draco could even ask if she was okay, she wiggled her hips off the couch experimentally. Unlike her own tentative explorations, his touch was solid and sure, stroking places inside her she wasn't aware existed, and Hermione was sure her own fingers would never again compare.

Draco groaned at her enthusiasm, as though she were doing something right by lifting her hips to meet the gentle thrust of his finger.

“More,” she insisted, and he was nothing if not indulgent. His thumb sought her clit, rubbing away the sting from the stretch of a second finger slipping into her.

She let out an unfettered moan as she arched her back, hoping he wouldn’t stop. How was it possible for something to feel so good?

Draco groaned into her mouth, and she felt the movement of his hips, his body moving instinctively against hers in time with the thrust of his fingers, and his clothed erection rubbing her thigh.

It was the lewd, wet sounds coming from the movement of his fingers inside her that made Hermione open her eyes, mortified at the squelching noise and the probable amount of liquid seeping onto his surely expensive leather cushion. She’d expected his eyes to be closed as well - isn’t that what one did in the throes of passion? But as she pulled back slightly from his kiss, she realized that his were open, pinned on her with a look of lust that overwhelmed her and made something inside of her flutter and clench around his fingers. She wasn’t sure she’d ever again kiss with her eyes closed, not when she knew that Draco could look at her like that.

He was handsome, and he was hers.

Her clothes suddenly felt too tight, too hot, and nothing mattered more than stripping them off. She wanted to bare herself to him, to feel his touch all over her body. Before she knew it, she was pushing him back from her to tug at the hem of her dress.

“Take it off,” she pleaded, feeling like a petulant child who had spent the day outside and was sticky and hot and needed to be undressed. Immediately.

“Sh, I’ve got you sweetheart,” Draco soothed, steady as always as he reached back to unzip Hermione’s dress and pull it over her head. Not one curl got snagged in the process. He deftly unclasped her bra and tossed it aside before laying her back onto the soft leather, and she breathed out a jagged sigh, relieved to be rid of the constraining garments.

She met his gaze again and blushed, aware of how exposed she was before him - and at how turned on she was being naked with a fully dressed Draco on above her. She shifted, rubbing her thigh on his, liking the way the expensive fabric felt on her skin. She felt a drop of wetness trickle down the crevice between her butt and thigh join a growing pool.

Was this a kink? If it was, she was fully invested.

“My perfect Hermione,” he crooned, hands floating from her cheek to her neck to her forearms to her nipples to her hips like he was overwhelmed by her. She couldn’t be embarrassed, she couldn’t close her eyes. Not when Draco looked at her like she was something to be honored in her most vulnerable state. It was a heady moment, knowing the word ‘perfect’ was being thrown around even after he saw the half moon of freckles under her left nipple and the way her hips were anything but a perfect hourglass.

If this tentative blossoming of confidence in her was only created through intimacy, she’d hop on the sex train so long as Draco was willing to pop on a little conductor hat.

She laughed lightly at the thought, drawing a grin from Draco. Unlike a lesser man, he didn’t look offended as though she were laughing at his actions.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hermione shook her head before laughing again.

“That’s not nothing, sugar.”

“I was just… thinking that I’d like to hop on the intimacy train if you were willing to don a conductor’s hat.”

Draco joined her in laughter, a surprised, raw sound.

“I think I could commandeer this train a bit better if you’re still coherent enough to be thinkin’ big thoughts right now,” Draco promised.

Before she could react, he leaned in, silencing any retorts with a kiss that sent shivers down her spine. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he trailed his lips down her neck and over her collar bones, seeking out all the wonderful, sensitive spots he’d already discovered.

“You have no idea what it does to me,” he whispered near her ear as his fingers slipped between her legs once again, “seeing you undressed like this, knowing I’m the only one to ever touch you like this.”

His words made her whimper, and she rocked her hips in time with his movement.

He nipped at her ear lobe. “You’re so wet, and you feel so, so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

Hermione was unsure how she’d gone from nervous giggles to moans in what felt like a precious few seconds, but she was fairly sure Draco Malfoy had to be a wizard to coax such reactions from her body. To have her so relaxed and in the moment when she was normally unable to enjoy anything due to the curse of a constantly racing mind.

“Please,” she breathed out. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking for, but he seemed to know.

The sinful touch of his hand shifted, his thumb rubbing her clit harder as he pressed wet kisses over her chest. Her back arched up off the couch as his mouth closed around her right nipple.

Hermione was no stranger to her own body, and she’d sought pleasure at her own touch before, but what Draco was doing to her body felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She never wanted it to stop, and yet she was somehow also certain that she might die of pleasure if he continued.

“Want to feel you come on my fingers,” he groaned as he released her nipple with a soft pop. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Her body reacted automatically to his voice, fluttering around his fingers as she whimpered and clutched at his shoulders. He hooked his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ motion inside of her, and Hermione cried out at the jolt of pleasure that shot through her as he moved. A string of incoherent noises tumbled from her mouth, a mix of moans and gasps and ‘please’ and ‘Draco.’

“Yes, that’s it, come on sugar.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and her body jerked, and when he sucked - hard - on her nipple, her world exploded in sensation as he coaxed her body through orgasm.

Any hope of ‘big thoughts’ was long-gone, and by the time she recovered enough from what had most definitely been the most incredible orgasm of her life, Hermione felt weightless and blissfully content.

She opened her eyes to see Draco gazing down at her.

“You are so perfect, so beautiful when you come,” he said as he dipped his head to press a gentle kiss to her swollen lips. His touch was soft, fingertips grazing her skin as he settled onto the couch beside her.

“You… that was…” She couldn’t find words.

Draco laughed. “What was that darlin’?”

“Mmmm…” she sighed in content as she rolled toward him, snuggling into his chest as his arms held her securely. He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She was fairly certain he was amused by her, but she didn’t care.

She wasn’t sure how long they laid together like that on what she was fairly sure was a wet spot on his couch, but she became acutely aware of a very hard cock pressed against her belly. Hermione bit her lip, uncertainty creeping back into her mind. Was she expected to return the favor? She’d never given a hand job before, and while it didn’t seem complicated, she was sure her efforts would lack the same finesse Draco was used to.

Despite her worries, her fingertips trailed down his chest until they closed on his belt buckle. She steeled herself with Pinterest-worthy encouragement. You can do this. You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

Before she could begin to work the buttery soft leather through the silver buckle with uncertain hands, his steady one closed around hers.

“Not tonight,” he said softly.

She looked up at him in confusion.

“Are you sure? That seems… uncomfortable.”

He drew her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm. His expression was soft and open and fond. “I’m sure. This was for you, birthday girl.”

xxx

**October 5, 2018**

“That’s a nice bag you got there, ma’am,” a familiar voice drawled.

Draco was hidden beneath sunglasses and a hat, looking like he’d just come from a Lululemon photoshoot.

“Thank you, I received it for my birthday.”

Draco rolled his eyes at the way she was grinning like a madwoman. She couldn’t even keep up with the charade enough to provide a retort, but she didn’t care.

“You have no poker face, sugar,” Draco informed her, lifting her off the ground in a hug.

“I missed you,” she said into his shoulder, loving the way Draco could so effortlessly hold her in the air.

“I missed you too. Ready to eat?”

“I told you not to wait!” Hermione reprimanded, tossing her bags off to Draco.

The Goyard tote that he’d given her for her birthday looked like it belonged on his shoulder, the effortlessly attractive, wealthy man who carried bags unashamedly for his wife. Only it was HER bag. She still felt a twinge of residual embarrassment as she thought back to opening her birthday presents.

_“Draco, this bag is incredible! Thank you,” Hermione beamed. “Are you in the habit of giving yourself gifts for other people’s birthdays, though, or is this a special occasion?”_

_Draco didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “Your bag has been ready to be tossed in the garbage for years, Hermione. Now you don’t need to worry about it ripping open and spilling the insane amount of items you insist on stuffing inside on your walk to work.”_

_She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, love. I really like it. Did you pick it out yourself?”_

_“I had some help. A friend who picked it up for me.” Draco shrugged._

_“Will Pansy know the brand?” Hermione asked, looking inside to see that he’d purchased a cardholder as well. Draco was too indulgent, but she knew enough about rich people at this point to not turn down their presents._

_“She will, sweetheart,” Draco replied, looking amused._

_“What?” Hermione asked._

_“Nothing,” Draco replied. “I’m just looking forward to seeing you use something I bought you.”_

_He was lying, averting his eyes and giving himself away._

_“That’s not it,” Hermione shook her head and pulled out her phone. She typed for a second and squeaked. “Draco! This is like… more than Louis Vuitton costs!”_

_Draco scoffed, “I would never buy you Louis Vuitton, it’s for commoners.”_

_Hermione laughed incredulously. Was this man real?_

_“Draco! This brand can only be purchased at 29 boutiques in the entire world! They don’t even have an online store.”_

_“You can buy online if you email,” he shrugged. He was far too casual about dropping this amount of money and sending someone to buy the bag and wallet for her. “I really hate seeing your raggedy old bag that you yourself said is cheap and falling apart when I know I could buy you any bag you wanted. Please, sugar, just don’t complain. Okay?”_

_She dropped her phone on the duvet, crawling the short distance over to a now shirtless, sweatpants-wearing Draco. She’d run upstairs naked and hopped in the shower for a quick wash after their dalliance on the couch. She’d also had a momentary freakout that she’d ruined the leather, acting like she was participating in an Extreme Home Makeover reveal as she peeled her legs up off the fabric to see if her arousal had left behind an unforgiving stain. Draco laughed gently at that, telling her that even if she did, he’d keep the couch and think of her every time he saw it._

_“Thank you,” she said, nuzzling her head under his chin like an annoying kitten._

_Draco patted her butt in reply, which she added to the list of leveled-up, sexy moves she liked. 22 was already proving to be a year of self discovery._

“What would you like to eat, Hermione?” Draco asked again, pretending like she hadn’t spoken as they hopped in his truck.

“Well… I did a bit of research on what one needs to eat in North Carolina, and came across somewhere called Cookout.”

Draco burst into laughter.

“Cookout it is,” Draco agreed. “I can’t say I’ve been there in years.”

“No? Not a Malfoy family staple?”

“Absolutely not,” Draco shook his head. “Grandfather was the only one who liked fast food, and he preferred Mcdonald’s. I’d go with friends, but never family. Like I said… I don’t know if mother has had Mcdonald’s in her life.”

“I feel like that’s such an odd idea. That there are Americans who’ve never had pizza or Mcdonald’s before. I remember having shrimp for the first time,” she offered. “We didn’t eat it growing up, but a tailgate I was at had coconut shrimp and I’m pretty sure I devoured the whole platter.”

“And now you love it.”

Hermione smiled, “And now I love it. Is there anything you didn’t get to do or eat growing up that you wish you did?”

Draco looked thoughtful. “Well, all of our vacations had to be in North Carolina or the papers would run stories about how the Malfoys didn’t contribute to the state’s economy, which is tabloid garbage. I’ve always wanted to go to Universal Studios or Disney… a big theme park that takes a kid’s breath away, you know? Music festivals too. There’s only so much country a man can take.”

She did know.

“I’ve never been to Orlando or a music festival. Maybe we can take a secret trip? Blend in with the sweaty masses?”

Draco shot her a smile. “I like the sound of that.”

xxx

“Last night was a mistake,” Hermione moaned, face pressed into her pillow.

Draco laughed, a rough sound in the morning. “I’m a bit shocked, sweetheart. I’ve never seen you eat that much.”

“It’s your fault! You ordered the entire menu, it would’ve been wasteful if I didn’t.”

“I thought I lucked out because you don’t snore, but it turns out I spoke too soon. Your stomach gurgles like a boiling pot after a fried feast.”

Hermione let out a noise of affront.

“Draco!”

“I’m serious,” he replied, looking far too overjoyed at the intimate ribbing they were involved in. What a point they’d reached, being able to joke about bodily functions while laying in bed.

“I want salads for every meal until I leave.”

“That’s too bad, Columba about had my head when I told her we weren’t cooking tonight, so I had to compromise. She’s bringing dessert, and I know you’ll love whatever she makes..”

Hermione sobered up a bit at the mention of his sister.

“Don’t get nervous on me now,” Draco smiled softly, scooting over to pull Hermione into his body.

She’d felt a sense of admittedly juvenile relief at realizing Draco didn’t want to attempt the sleeping positions that she’d seen in movies, where it was clearly obvious to her that one person’s arm would fall asleep where it was perfectly draped behind the other’s shoulder.

No, Draco, the pragmatic man he was, slept a few inches away from her. It was another addition to the increasingly long ‘Draco Malfoy is my perfect man’ list. She also added it to a potentially distributable ‘Draco Malfoy is the perfect man’ list as well.

“I know, Draco. I’m trying not to get in my head. I just know how we look on paper. I want her to give me a chance before she writes us off.”

“There’s a reason you’re meeting Columba first. She’s sweet as apple pie and about as thoughtful as a Malfoy can get. It’ll be good for us to have some insight… our echo chamber has been quite cozy.”

The words stung a bit, but he wasn’t wrong. Nights holed up at Draco’s had become their new normal, and it was almost easier to exist without ever leaving the house. She’d selfishly wondered how long they’d be able to keep that up; was it possible for them to never go public?  
Draco’s hand on her own snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

“Hermione,” his voice was laced with authority. It reminded her of the first time they’d talked in his office. “I need you to trust me. Everything is going to be fine. I will take care of you.”

If it were anyone else, she would’ve felt offended at the potentially patronizing words. But when Draco spoke like this, like an older man who knew exactly what he was doing, she felt both calm and aroused. What an intoxicating brew of feelings Draco inspired in her.

“Yes,” she whispered back, wide brown eyes locked on him.

“Good girl.”

The calm sigh that left her mouth was a knee jerk reaction more than anything else, really. She, the bold as brass girl who historically found herself in trouble for mouthing off and speaking her mind to authority figures, was often mowed into submission by Draco’s directives. How did he just switch personas? There was a leveled-up Draco that harnessed an authority that had her wanting to kneel at his feet and whimper an adoring, obedient ‘yes sir.’ She was pretty sure he could use that voice and get her to walk into the middle of the street if the circumstance was right.

Her urge to ask him about the voice was strong, but she exercised a restraint she didn’t know she was aware of in following his instructions and hopping in the shower. Later. She would get to the bottom of the two-Draco conundrum later.

xxx

“You are stunning,” Draco greeted as Hermione walked out of the bathroom.

“Thank you,” she smiled back, a blush on her face at his praise. The idea of someone liking more than just her brain or work was new. “Where’s your shirt?”

“I was waiting to see what color you wore… I want to match.”

Hermione laughed, “Yeah? Is that a thing?”

Draco nodded seriously, “It’s a Malfoy tradition. Father always matches mother… I think they took the concept from tacky to charming.”

“Then who are we not to match?” she asked, watching as Draco grabbed an emerald green polo out of his massive closet.

The emerald green dress she wore was borrowed from Pansy at her friend’s insistence that she look high-brow while meeting Malfoys. Hermione didn’t disagree, but panicked a bit at the reminder that her wardrobe was nowhere near Malfoy-level.

She’d need to figure out how to build an entirely new wardrobe that was classier than the clothes that she considered fashionable. ASOS and Topshop were not going to impress Narcissa Malfoy. Honestly, the Zara pant suit that Hermione wore when she wanted to look especially professional at work may even cause the woman a heart attack.

Draco clearly saw something in her expression, pulling her to himself and pressing a kiss on her carefully tamed curls.

“She’s going to love you,” he promised for what had to be the millionth time.

Deep down, Hermione knew that men loathed insecure women who needed to constantly be coddled and reassured. Now, though? Those fears were eating at her.

The telltale noise of an opening garage sounded while she was fiddling with the bottle of white wine. She was extremely annoyed that Draco had said they were ordering out, but she was unwilling to argue. This was a woman’s dick measuring competition, and she was losing before they’d even met. Hermione knew how to cook and do it well; Draco knew that, but his sister wouldn’t. Wasn’t ordering out for a first impression an unforgivable southern blasphemy?

She knew he was just as nervous as she was, even if he was better at keeping himself buttoned up and looking suave.

This was his family, after all; he was a 40-year-old man who’d held out on getting married and was now introducing her to them. He had every reason to be freaking out.

“Hi Hermione!” a light, young-sounding voice greeted, and Hermione turned around with a smile to greet Columba.

“Columba,” Hermione replied, internally fist pumping when she realized her voice didn’t shake. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Truly!” the woman squealed, moving forward on the same espadrille wedges that Pansy owned. Hermione could tell you that they were $970, because when she was a poor, innocent intern, she asked Pansy if she picked them up at the Metro Center TJ Maxx.

Pansy, of course, had scoffed and loudly informed Hermione that last she knew, TJ Maxx did not sell Hermès or shoes that cost $970.00. Color Hermione suitably chastised and now unwilling to ask Pansy anything other than the name of the designer she was wearing.

Hermione was surprised by the warmth of the embrace she was tugged into despite Draco’s insistence that his sister would love her.

“Look at your sweet face! You really are younger than Draco,” Columba observed honestly before squeezing Hermione’s cheeks in her hands. “Sorry! Bad habit, I’m trying to break it.”

Draco let out a laugh, somewhere between amusement and relief.

Hermione knew the feeling well.

“Learning from Auntie Walburga?”

Columba shuddered at the unfamiliar name. “Never compare me to that witch, Draco Lucius!”

“Sorry, dove. The resemblance was too uncanny to ignore,” Draco smiled, carefully holding a covered dish in his hands.

“Put the pie in the oven, please, 200 degrees. Leave the foil on.”

“Yes ma’am,” Draco replied immediately before rolling his eyes as he realized his quick acquiescence. “You sound just like mother and gran these days… it’s terrifying.”

“Has he been giving you trouble?” Columba asked, turning her sea blue eyes on Hermione.

The woman had Draco’s pale skin and the typical Malfoy hair coloring, but her eyes were a sea blue that none of the Malfoy men boasted. She was surprisingly tall, with the same elegantly thin figure of models. Wearing a buttercup yellow dress that was covered in sunflowers and somehow looked more elegant than anything, Columba Malfoy-Scamander cut an intimidating and gorgeous figure.

“No,” Hermione laughed. “He is a good one, just a bit too honest for a politician.”

“That shows he’s got you in his greedy little claws,” Columba shared, lowering her voice as though Draco couldn’t hear. “He’s only honest with those he thinks won't turn tail and run.”

“He’s right on that assumption,” Hermione blushed when she realized what she’d said and attracted a somewhat surprised look from the other woman.

“What are we eating? Draco told me he wasn’t letting either of us step foot in the kitchen.”

“Yet you still made a pie, dove. I ordered from Dish. I thought Hermione would enjoy a taste of the south.”

Columba looked indignant. “Really? Dish? Country cooking? You could've at least chosen something that I couldn’t cook for us, brother…”

Draco shrugged, looking weirdly sheepish. “I just wanted us to enjoy the night, Columba. Could you allow that to happen?”

Her tense, motherly stance relaxed, hands dropping from her hips.

“Of course. Be a dear and grab the wine while Hermione and I set up outside.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before heading outside, and Hermione followed her to Draco’s expansive back patio. The inground pool was stunning, but the raised patio was the real gem of the rolling hills that comprised Draco’s backyard.

“How was your trip in?”

“Thankfully it’s an easy flight. I’m amazed at how quick the lines are at DCA every time I fly down on a Friday night.”

“Oh? Have you visited here often?” she asked, sounding more interested than catty.

Hermione didn’t know what to expect from Draco’s little sister who was still older than her by 11 years. She wouldn’t blame Columba if she were wary; the Malfoys had every reason to doubt her as a person, but they didn’t have the right to scrutinize the always-careful Draco for the first woman he’d brought home in seven years.

If there was a sword to fall on, she’d already made up her mind that she’d do so every time in this relationship. For now, though, she’d keep her commitment to martyrdom to herself.

“This is my fourth time,” Hermione replied.

“Leave it to men to bury all of the details! You two are serious. Not that he’d bring a random gal back home, but that aside… you two are serious. That’s a lot to process for me, Hermione...”

Hermione was inclined to agree with all of the sentiments above.

“The election has really thrown his schedule into a loop; I’m just happy that I could make it down here before the holiday season starts,” Hermione replied, not wanting to denigrate Draco in any way. This was a test of who she was and what her relationship to Draco was, even if Columba was sweet about it.

“Right? Election years never get easier! Where are you from?” Columba was just as receptive to a conversation aversion as Hermione could’ve hoped.

“Seattle,” Hermione smiled. “Born and raised.”

“Oh wow! I have always wanted to visit the northwest. My husband and I like to plan elaborate vacations that we never take, and one of our recently mapped out trips starts in Washington and ends with an Alaskan cruise.”

Hermione laughed, “I blame Pinterest. It’s brought out my worst, most idealistic tendencies when it comes to future homes and vacations. Seattle really is beautiful, though… I think you’d love it. Draco says you’re a vet? Do you get much time off?”

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. Dinner is here,” Draco called from the house, clearly waiting for a lull in their conversation.

“We’re eating out here, Drake! Soak up the October summer,” Columba replied, receiving a sigh from Draco before he turned back inside to grab the food by himself. “90 degrees in October; can you believe it?”

“I thought I might get to break out my fall clothes, but no such luck.”

Columba groaned, “That’s the only bad part of my job, I’d say. Rain or shine, summer or winter, long pants and boots are a part of my uniform. Anything else is a safety hazard, though I’d reckon that passing out from heat stroke is as well.”

“I’m so interested in your work,” Hermione leaned forward, making eye contact with Columba. “What does a normal day look like? How many farms do you service?”

“Me again,” Draco interjected, getting twin eye rolls from the women. “I’m not even sure what’s here, honestly.”

His hands were full with stacked plastic takeout containers.

“Looks like a bit of everything based on the number of boxes and your Malfoy-male overindulgence.”

“Is that a shared trait?” Hermione asked, getting a vigorous nod.

“As Aunt Bella said, it’s like they’re trying to make up for something by overdoing other alpha male tendencies. Mama took fault with her insinuation, and of course this took place at Rolf’s first Thanksgiving with our family.”

Hermione let out a laugh and Draco shot a scowl at her.

“A bit of time with dove and you’re already conspiring against me. Mother is going to love that someone’s there to break family ties.”

“You countin’ Rolfie out?”

“Your husband would never hop into a fight that father is in the ring for.”

“You’re not wrong… he’s a smart man, he knows when to take a step back.”

“Or how to generally avoid father,” Draco muttered, getting a glare from Columba.

Hermione did her best not to look at him with confusion at his reply, not wanting the other woman to think she wasn’t fully apprised of Malfoy family dynamics. Stakes felt extremely high, and every move she made felt important. She wondered how she looked to Draco; was she acting as weird as she felt? Probably.

Dinner was more pleasant than Hermione could’ve ever dreamed. Columba was the coolest, most feminine farm veterinarian Hermione assumed she’d ever meet, and her son, Leo, seemed keen to follow right in both of his parent’s footsteps. Hermione tucked that away for later; would the Malfoy political dynasty end with Draco?

“Pardon my asking, but… when are you telling mother and father about your relationship?” Columba asked after daintily patting her lips rid of any lemon meringue pie remnants.

Her brother nodded, settling into professional Draco mode. Hermione hated that he felt he needed to armor himself for this conversation.

“We both know how father gets around elections, so I feel it prudent to wait until directly after. The first week the House and Senate are back in DC for votes we’ll have them over for dinner.”

Hermione could read the worry on Columba’s face and saw the way her eyes darted towards the newcomer, like she was unable to say what she truly felt in her presence.

“Why don’t you two chat while I clean up?” Hermione asked, throwing the woman a bone. She figured she’d be doing that a lot in the weeks and months ahead, so why not get settled into it now?

“Thank you, Hermione,” Columba replied, shutting Draco up before he could insist on Hermione staying at the table.

Columba was perfectly lovely as she left a long while later, just as she was throughout the entire meal. Despite her general demeanor of sunshines and rainbows, Hermione found herself wondering if Columba truly meant it when she said she looked forward to seeing her again soon.

Draco was smiling softly after shutting his garage, walking back in and pulling Hermione into one of his squeezy hugs she so adored.

“She didn’t like me?” Hermione asked quietly, despite herself. It was hard not to ask blunt questions like that, no matter how needy it made her seem. Not when Draco was always willing to tell her the truth.

“She loved you, sweetheart. Just like I promised she would.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“Just trying to toss my rational brain the reins so I don’t drag you over to my parents’ house right now and introduce you to them.”

Hermione let out an incredulous laugh. Incredulous? Delighted. Over the moon. Surprised. She was elated.

Draco’s sister had given him a clear confidence that they could make this work, but Hermione wouldn’t let him run himself into ruins over the process of making that evident to everyone else.

“We’re sticking to the plan.”

“They live a few houses down. We could even walk.”

“You’re drunk enough to need to walk?”

“No,” Draco scoffed. “I’m just saying… if you want to.”

“You’re supposed to be the voice of reason,” Hermione replied. “But I feel like I need to step into those shoes right now. We’re not going to your parents’ place when they’re already likely in their pajamas and ready for bed and wholly unprepared for this bomb drop.”

“Father doesn’t own pajamas,” Draco corrected.

She knocked her head against his chest. Insufferable man.

“You know what I mean, Draco! We’re going to put pajamas on because we own them, and we’re going to start season two of The Office.”

“Bossy,” Draco teased. “I never was an intern, but now I think I know how they felt.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “Interns are way more amenable than you are. You’d be fired in a week!”

“I’ll show you amenable!” Draco growled, tossing Hermione over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and bounding up the stairs. Hermione could confirm, after asking for a repeat performance of last night’s events, that he was definitely amenable to her requests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeee! Onto the election. All my love! Let me know your thoughts :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!!!!!! This. Is. A. Doozy. Can't wait to hear your thoughts.

_“That’s right, Cel, senior Republican sources have shared that conversations about the party’s nominee for president have already started to convalesce around Senate Majority Leader Lucius Malfoy, the senior senator from the State of North Carolina as their frontrunner. This comes as no surprise to many, as Senator Malfoy has never explicitly ruled out a 2020 run for the White House.”_

_“Thanks for that important new reporting from WWN’s Parvati Patil, live at the White House. I’m back with our panel of experts to discuss this and much more. Americans haven’t even voted in the 2018 midterms, yet we’re already seeing frontrunners in the 2020 presidential. Is Lucius Malfoy that sure of a thing for the Republicans to already float his name, Zeb?” asked Celestina Warbeck, host of WWN’s The Daily Deal with Cel._

_“Absolutely, Cel. Lucius Malfoy has long been a kingmaker in the GOP. As someone who has worked with both Lucius and his father, Abraxas, I am almost certain that this is more than a floating of a name. This is a promise that if Americans get out and vote for a Republican-led House and Senate, not to mention state legislatures and local elections, they’ll have a much better chance of electing a president who can enact an America-first agenda in two years due to support in other branches of government,” replied former U.S. Senator Zebedee Wilkes (R-MO)._

_“That is so far off and convoluted, Zeb. More than anything, it shows me how scared the Republican Party is going into both 2018 and 2020. Democrats have built a strong battleground map, and voters are proud of all that has been accomplished under President Shacklebolt and Speaker Dumbledore, even with a stonewalling Senate that’s led by Senator Malfoy. I think on Tuesday, the GOP is going to discover that the name Malfoy certainly does resonate with voters, not as a beacon of hope, but as a cold, obstructionist man and a family, for that matter, that has ruled Washington for far too long,” retorted Hestia Jones, senior Democratic strategist._

**November 4, 2018**

It had taken one day on the campaign trail for Hermione to realize why Percy, straightlaced Percy Weasley, had laughed when she told him she was volunteering as Congressman Potter’s body person for the last two weeks of the 2018 election cycle.

There were strict rules outlining what employees of Members of Congress could help with for political campaigns; Hermione wasn’t even allowed to let someone calling Rep. Potter’s DC office know how to help out with his campaign or where to donate online. The people looking for yard signs were always the maddest when she couldn’t give them a straight answer.

All she could do was give them the number to the campaign office. She, like most employees, was terrified of crossing ethics lines and causing her boss a hailstorm in the media and the potential of having to pay ethics fines out of his own pocket. It was the one thing everyone on the Hill agreed on across party lines; leave campaign work at home.

So when Remus asked Hermione to join the congressman back in Seattle for the end of the campaign, he was very clear in his explanation.

She was helping out in a volunteer capacity; this was not her official work, she’d responded to an email from his gmail to hers saying as much. There would be no pay for her work, only experience and the fist pumping excitement that came with a job well done.

Only that was extremely untrue, because all Hermione was feeling three days before the election was annoyance, desperation and anger. She’d been a bit preemptive in feeling bad for Penelope, who had stayed in DC to man the office, answer calls and collect mail. Penelope was living the highlife.

The Potter brood’s schedule was nonstop, and Hermione was their faithful driver. That meant she got to hold Lily’s purse at events, take photos, hold onto the gifts and business cards that people tried to hand to Rep. Potter, and drive them. Everywhere.

Hermione was also expected to masquerade as the 5 foot nothing boogeyman, tasked with interrupting conversations to get James from event to event. The only thing worse than the scathing looks and muttered statements about how rude she was from strangers was when James held up a hand to her and said he wasn’t done talking to someone yet. Like she took pleasure from keeping him on time and stepping in while he was talking to billionaires and mothers crying over the loss of their children. But it was her job, and Hermione Granger always does her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t one she was getting paid for.

She liked driving, really, but that was very different from driving with a senior Member of Congress who was constantly receiving calls from crying candidates, curious reporters, and a spitting mad Speaker Albus Dumbledore who was receiving national poll numbers that clearly weren’t where he expected them to be. Even the most jovial of men, like James Potter, had their breaking point.

This afternoon seemed to be his; Hermione had taken the left turn instructed by her godsent Google Maps app on the way to the Seattle Democrats’ campaign HQ. That was, of course, the moment the bespectacled man looked up from his furious texting and screamed as though Hermione had run over his only son. Only he’d wanted her to take a right because it would’ve gotten them there faster - it wouldn’t have.

They’d arrived, two minutes earlier than if Hermione would’ve taken a right, and not even Remus, the lucky tagalong for the day, was stepping in on her behalf.

On top of it, they’d been to five events so far that day and none of them had open catering. So now she was sitting in James’ Ford Escape while he and Remus ate the ‘lovely sandwich spread’ the blonde woman who’d ushered them in had boasted. Remus told Hermione to go wait in the car, as though he didn’t know she wouldn’t have been allowed in.

So she sat in the car, stomach trying to eat itself while she debated whether or not she could make it back before the event ended if she sprinted to the 7-Eleven that was a block away to buy enough snacks to live through the day. And she cursed her lifelong desire to have a career in public service. This did not feel useful; this felt like being used.

The situation only got worse the next day, when the congressman came back to the car huffing that Lily wanted to attend the next event. After being commanded to drive to the Potter home at a breakneck speed, Hermione had to hide hysterical laughter when they’d rolled up as Lily texted that she needed ten more minutes to finish her makeup. It was like she was being Punk’d, really.

By the time she’d gotten back to her grandparents after yet another hotel fundraiser, it was 11pm and she had to be out the door in 7 hours to pick up her boss for a local TV interview.

All of that on top of the barrage of articles Pansy texted about sources claiming Lucius Malfoy was the top contender for the Republican’s 2020 presidential nominee.

So no, she wasn’t too happy when Draco texted her that he was calling the National Guard out if she didn’t call him before midnight.

It was a weird thing, that even after he’d seen her naked body multiple times, she still didn’t feel ready for location sharing. That was a different type of nakedness altogether, one that’d require a bit more time before sharing.

So she called him to get it over with.

“Sweetheart,” Draco greeted, sounding just as tired as her. “Are you still out? Why’d you call?”

“No,” Hermione sighed, pulling her hair back into a French braid with her phone resting on the bathroom counter. She stayed in her basement bedroom at her grandparents’ place, which made Draco’s voice blaring on speakerphone less of a concern. “I don’t want to FaceTime, I’m tired.”

“I miss that pretty face,” Draco replied easily. Why was he still in a teasing mood when she clearly wasn’t? “I can’t remember what your nose looks like.”

“We FaceTimed yesterday, Draco.”

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked. Hermione could tell he’d just barely left off the ‘with you’ from the question, which wouldn’t have been altogether out of line. She was feeling bitchy and with no one else to take it out on… Draco was the obvious target.

“I had the worst day and know I have two more equally, if not more, awful days ahead of me. Not to mention election night, which Remus just told me I’d be driving for. Why can’t they just take an Uber home?” she scoffed, frustrated tears burning in her eyes.

“There’s no one else who can drive? Why doesn’t Remus drive?”

“Because he needs access to his phone,” Hermione replied in a crude imitation of a male voice, repeating the same answer she’d received when she asked Lee the same question in a very innocent conversation at Potter election HQ last week.

“That’s not a real reason,” Draco replied, Hermione could tell he was shaking his head without even seeing him. “Even Blaise drives me. You need to ask them if someone else can hop in the car for a bit, Hermione… the next two days are going to be long, it isn’t up to you to drive straight to the finish line.”

Hermione laughed, the sound turning into a sob. There were the tears that’d been threatening to come every time she was directed to stand outside of a meeting when food was on the other side of the door or told they were adding one more event in place of the lunch hour their schedule had dictated.

“They don’t care enough to get me lunch, Draco, I hardly think they’ll care about me having election night off!”

“They’re not feeding you?” Draco asked, voice stony.

“I’m not getting into this right now,” Hermione replied, sniffling. Thankfully her one sob hadn’t turned into more; only pathetic sniffles that she definitely deserved to let out. Better now than tomorrow when Harry was campaigning with them.

“Sweetheart… you need to say something. This is a stressful time for everyone, but that doesn’t negate your right to food and bathroom breaks.”

“I don’t want to fight, Draco,” Hermione sighed, really really trying not to get frustrated at the knowing confidence in his voice. Normally she loved it, but now? Now it felt almost patronizing. “I’m not you; I am literally the lowest person on the totem pole for both our campaign office and official office. There’s no one else who can drive, I just need to make it through the next two days.”

“It’s not right,” Draco replied. Hermione knew he was running his hands through his hair, teeth grit together in frustration as he tried to find a way to fix this.

“Right now I just need you to tell me everything’s going to be okay, honestly,” she replied, sounding much more pitiful than she had planned to.

Draco shushed her, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Where are you right now?”

“I just got home, I’m getting ready for bed.”

“Good girl,” Draco praised.

Hermione felt her shoulders slump a bit at that; it felt nice, hearing someone say she was doing something right. The past two weeks had been full of sharp directives, none of the enthusiastic ‘atta girls’ or ‘great work, Hermione!’s’ that she was used to back in DC. That phrase, however, was one she only liked from Draco. It didn’t make her feel like a dog; it made her feel warm inside and want to curl on Draco and never move.

“Tell me when you’re in bed.”

“About to brush my teeth,” she replied. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but doable… Blaise and Luna were twenty minutes late to church, but still decided to walk up front and sit with my family. I thought mother was going to have a fit.”

Hermione laughed at that, foamy toothpaste dribbling down her chin. She knew the smug expression that would unfurl on Draco’s face at the knowledge that he made her laugh that hard if they were together, and it only made her more upset. She missed Draco.

“Then we had the farmer’s market, of course, and traveled to four different churches in the state for their services. Father is a big fan of rallying the base, and the Sunday before the election is the optimal time for that.”

“It’s really late, why are you up?” Hermione asked, calculating that it was past 2am his time.

“Take three guesses and the first two can’t be ‘my girl went radio silent and I know she’s had a rough few days.’”

Hermione wishes his quip didn’t make her smile. For that… she switched on FaceTime.

“Well hello there, pretty lady,” Draco smiled. He was in his bed, no chin rolls to be seen, of course, with a smile on his face. As though her makeupless face and red-rimmed eyes were deserving of such a breathtaking expression.

“Hi,” Hermione replied, unable to tamp down a smile of her own.

“Let’s get you in bed,” Draco directed. “Lights off, covers back, get all snuggled in. Then let me know if I’m still the master of tucking you in for bed after you do it.”

“Not as nice as when you do it,” she replied, sure he could hear the frown in her voice even though it was now pitch black on her end. She could see the soft, slightly sad smile on his.

“We’ll have to make up for that next week,” Draco promised. “So long as you let Pansy know I’ll be sneakin’ out of your place late.”

She laughed, “She’ll think it’s weird.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not tucking you in for Pansy’s approval, hm?”

“Right,” Hermione replied, letting out a sigh.

“What time do you work tomorrow?”

“James has an interview at 7:15am downtown, so I’m picking him up at 6:30. Lily and Harry are coming along for the day, so I know it’ll be awful.”

“Did you set your alarm?” Draco asked. Hermione made a noise; that was a good point. She was so close to sleep, that she wouldn’t be shocked if she slept straight through the night without the normal panic she faced on days she had to be somewhere early.

“Done,” she replied.

“Good job,” Draco’s voice was a soft croon, his face angelic even under the harsh light of a bedroom lamp. “Now, you’re going to plug your phone in and go to sleep while I tell you a little story.”

Hermione snuggled down into her bed, grateful for her six foot phone charger.

“Didn’t even hear what you’re doing tomorrow,” she protested, though her eyes were getting heavier with each passing moment.

Draco simply ignored her, starting his promised story. The last thing Hermione saw was his bright eyes, looking into the camera even though her screen was as dark as her room.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who played alone in the forest behind her house. One day, she came across a tree and saw juicy, bright red apples hanging off of the branches. Even though she was a tiny little thing, she was tall enough to reach the lowest branches. So she took an apple, enjoying the taste. She came back every day with a stepstool, even bringing friends and family, until she realized that the apples were gone. Her parents would go to the store and buy more apples, but…”

Hermione fell asleep to the sound of Draco’s voice, knowing that the next day would indeed be awful, but this was the homestretch. She had made it through hell before, and two days of driving her well-meaning, yet absent-minded boss wouldn’t bring her back there. She’d be just fine.

xxx

**November 6, 2018**

There was a weirdness to being on the west coast that she’d forgotten during her time in DC. She missed seeing TV shows before spoilers were posted online, and she missed actually being where the first election results were coming in so your own victories weren’t ruined or overshadowed by east coast returns.

No, by 7:05 pm in Seattle, the entirety of the Washington State Democratic Party’s election event was whispering furiously and entering in and out of the spacious hotel ballroom to take calls. Hermione was told to keep an eye on her phone for when James texted her that wanted to leave, and she was doing just that.

Thankfully, they’d already zipped in and out of his district’s watch party at a local brewery before the race had even been called. Not that there was a question of who had won after exit polls came back with 88 percent for the incumbent representative.

She’d taken photos for Rep. Potter, recorded his victory speech, gobbled down some lukewarm mozzarella sticks and half a turkey pita that were laid out for guests. The past two weeks had made her a pro of averting her eyes while piling up a plate of food at a place where she technically wasn’t supposed to be eating. She wished that she’d never have known enough to gain such a skill, honestly.

“What do you think, Mione?” Harry asked, causing her to jump. The boy knew everyone here, and was bounding around being doted on like a puppy. Which, honestly, he kind of was.

“If Arizona, Texas and New Mexico look anything like Florida, New York and South Carolina we’re screwed.”

Harry’s eyes were wide, looking as though this information was new to him. She knew it wasn’t; it was the only conversation happening anywhere around the room as people tried to crunch numbers.

“We won’t lose the House,” she replied certainly. “We’ll just have a razor thin margin.”

“Michael Scott lemonade stand explanation, please,” Harry replied.

She swallowed a sigh. “There are 435 voting members of the House of Representatives. Whichever party has 218 members secures the majority in the chamber; right now the Democrats have 251 members. It looks like we’re going to lose around 29 seats tonight.”

Harry was quiet, and Hermione could almost see a vein burst in his head as he attempted the mental math. She stayed silent, curious to see if he could solve the problem.

“That’s good, Hermione! We’ll still be on top.”

She did sigh loudly now. “If my estimate is right, we’ll only have the majority by four seats. We already have a strong Blue Dog Coalition, and it looks like most of them will keep their seats. They vote against the party on multiple issues, including fiscal policy. There’s a chance that a sizable chunk of the progressive agenda, including climate policies, expanded Kingsleycare, and lowering taxes, will have to be watered down to keep their votes. This is not good going into a presidential year where our candidate will have no major recent victories to tout.”

“That only matters if we win back the Senate, right?”

How was this clueless boy the son of a Member of Congress?

“Oh, Harry. Do you ever listen when your father gives interviews? We aren’t going to win the Senate, we already lost the two seats we thought we’d gain and it looks like we’ll lose a Dem seat in Maine. We’re now heading into a presidential election with a slim majority and losses in districts we couldn’t have imagined. This is the last thing the party needed.”

“You sound so pessimistic, Mione. Dad won! You still have a job… isn’t that a good thing?”

Hermione smiled back at him weakly. “That’s a very good thing; I’m proud to be a part of his team.”

But that doesn’t mean I can’t be worried about the shit show that the rest of the map turned out to be, she thought to herself.

“I’m going to go find Lisa Turpin, she texted me that she found a bar that’s serving Kahlúa and coffee. Want to come?”

“I’m on driving duty, and I don’t get phone service anywhere but this spot. Thanks for asking,” she smiled, feeling very much like a parent assuring their child everything was fine when the house was burning down. “Have fun and be safe!”

“Yes, Mione! See you soon,” he replied, waving like the boy he was before he bounced off to find whoever Lisa was.

There was a moment of loneliness that had her reaching for her phone, opening her messaging app and thinking of who could quell it. She knew there wasn’t a word for the instinct, but it was one everyone her age knew.

Only, she didn’t have a parent to text and had no desire to message her colleagues or democrat friends anything that could be screenshotted and used against her after her fear and anger at the results had passed. Friendship and professional relationships were murky waters, and she always chose to just stay on the beach, even if that meant suffering in silence when she just wanted to complain to someone. It was better than drowning.

Draco was at his own victory party, and Hermione was pleased to see that the race had been called almost as soon as the polls closed. WWN still hadn’t called Senator Malfoy’s race, but with his margin of victory, she knew it was only a matter of time. At least someone was having a nice night.

She made the decision to leave the ballroom and head outside of the hotel for fresh air; there was nothing for her in there. If nothing, jumping back into James’ car would give her better cell service as she wrestled with the reality of a relationship with Draco.

Her first instinct was to text him, but she stopped herself. This wasn’t the same as sharing an anecdote about a constituent who claimed that 5G wireless service was a plot by the government to kill people or complaints when her Starbucks mobile order wasn’t ready. No, this was her heartbreak and anxiety over her party bleeding most of their majority margin, and the culprit was the very political party he was drinking to at that very moment.

Pansy wasn’t even a viable option, either, not when the girl was working for a Republican that also happened to be Draco. The web was tangled.

She was rapidly approaching a headspace that Gina, her therapist, called ‘Hermione’s point of no return.’ If anyone were to walk by James’ car they would’ve probably been concerned by the girl sucking in deep breaths and banging on the steering wheel.

It was only when she was on her third round of breathing exercises that her phone rang. Torn between disappointment and excitement at who the call was from, she answered.

“Congratulations, love,” she smiled. That’s as far as she’d gotten in her mental gymnastics. She was happy for Draco’s victory, but every victory in his party outside of that…. Hard to swallow still. Now she’d see if Draco understood that.

“Thank you,” Draco replied, a smile in his voice. Hermione could hear voices that seemed far away if she scrunched her eyes and focused on listening. He’d clearly stepped away from his party. “I know it was expected, but it’s still relieving. How is it going over in afternoon land? It sounds far too quiet for a party that’s three hours behind mine.”

Hermione laughed, “It’s not afternoon anymore! I’m outside in James’ car.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice perking up in the concerned way it always did when he sensed something was off.

“Nothing,” she replied, not wanting to dampen the mood. This was part of a relationship, right? Compromise. She was compromising her anxiety to give him a great night, and she felt mature about it. “I have no service inside and I’m scared I won’t see Remus’ text when James wants to leave.”

Draco scoffed, “The least they could do was search you out in that case so that you can enjoy the party, sweetheart.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying your party,” she retorted. Deflection. The age old remedy.

“I’m outside, I wanted to talk to you before father’s results come in and we’re pulled in for joint interviews.”

“I’m happy to hear your voice.”

“Me too, sweetheart. I have good news… the meeting with Gringotts’ new board members was postponed, so I can fly down Friday.”

“Really?” she asked, a grin growing on her face. “I can’t wait to see you, Draco.”

“Same here, I see a lot of TV and pizza in this weekend’s forecast.”

“That’s all I want,” she sighed. “Have you given a speech yet?”

“I haven’t, I’ll give one when-” Hermione felt like a bucket of ice was chucked over her head as Draco muttered shit and hung up the call. The three minutes that it took for him to call back felt like hours.

“Are you okay?” she asked, left hand clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

“Yes, sorry for the scare, my mother popped out to see where I’d gone. Looks like some smaller polling firms are calling father’s race and she wants me inside. She asked who I was talking to.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“I am a political master of evasion, but unfortunately mother is immune to it. She said we’ll talk later.”

“Sorry,” Hermione whispered, though she wasn’t really certain what she was apologizing for. It was a reflex at this point.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, okay? Just take a few breaths… everything will be alright. Make it through tonight knowing there is a weekend of nothing but naps and Netflix in your future,” Draco’s smile was evident through the phone. “Be good, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” Hermione replied. “Have fun, I’m really proud of you.”

“Your sweetness will be the only thing that powers me through the next few hours,” Draco replied before the call went dead.

Hermione closed her eyes, hoping the next alert that rang out on her phone would be James ready to go home. She couldn’t wait for her first election season as a staffer to come to a close and prayed it would be her last as an unpaid chauffeur.

xxx

**November 9, 2018**

Hermione was annoyed, taking another large bite out of the slice of pizza in front of her. Draco had been on calls for most of the day, dashing hopes of a lazy day spent on the couch.

She’d waved him off after the third time he mouthed his apologies. There was clearly nothing he could do to change the course of the day at this point.

“You could’ve kept watching, Hermione,” Draco said, sounding very tired on a day that was supposed to be about relaxing.

“I’m the one who’s already watched the show, Draco. The point was to watch it together.”

“Easy,” Draco warned, hopping on the couch and pressing a kiss on her hair. “I want to be on calls even less than you want me to be on them.”

“What’s even happening?”

“Amelia Bones is announcing her run for president tomorrow at 12pm.”

“Isn’t it a bit early?” Hermione asked, scrunching her nose.

“For a progressive to get in front of every other Dem candidate by announcing their candidacy after an awful election showing? It is going to piss the establishment off and rile up the army.”

Hermione snorted, “The establishment and Dumbledore’s Army are the same thing. He’s literally Speaker of the House… any attempt to say that he isn’t just as ensconced in DC as other members of the party is a joke.”

Draco held his hands up, “Don’t come at me, I’m not the one who coined the term, blame Dumbledore.”

“He didn’t come up with it, did he? I thought someone came up with it after your dad called him a senile man who needs to be taken to pasture.”

“You think keyboard warriors all got together behind their screens and decided on Dumbledore’s Army that quickly? No, it was him. Otherwise they’d call themselves something far more clever and less aimed at inflating one pseudo-progressive’s ego.”

Hermione nuzzled her head on Draco’s shoulder. “Your love for Speaker Dumbledore is palpable. But that still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you taking so many calls?”

Draco just looked at her, as though he was waiting for her to figure something out.

Thankfully, her brain didn’t fail.

“Is your dad running? Like the reports are saying?”

Draco twisted his lips, “When a story in the Prophet quotes four senior sources, I think a good rule of thumb is to believe it.”

“Stop being coy, Draco. Is he running or not?”

Draco nodded. “He’ll share more over the Thanksgiving holiday, but it’s certainly looking that way.”

Hermione’s mind raced at the implications of President Lucius Malfoy. If this were a year ago and she had discovered that the man was running for president, she would’ve been on her knees in panic over the man wielding enough power to destroy the gains made under President Shacklebolt. Now, though, she only had thoughts for her relationship with Draco and her own career.

She let out a moan, crawling into Draco’s lap and wrapping herself around him like an unwelcome octopus.

“He’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not,” Draco replied, smoothing out Hermione’s hair and pulling it away from his mouth. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“You say that, and I would be keen to believe you if I didn’t know your father was running for President of the United States, Draco!”

“Kids are off limits in elections,” Draco replied.

Hermione laughed, thumping a fist softly into Draco’s bicep.

“Kids are 9 like Elijah Shacklebolt, not 40-year-old Members of Congress!”

“It was worth a try,” Draco replied, voice far too amused for this important of a conversation. She wanted to yell at him, shake him about and ask him to be serious, but the hand rubbing down her back had her relaxing. “Baby, you’re going to meet my parents, and they’re going to love you… eventually. They’ll have questions, but we’ll answer them and everything will be just fine. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione replied, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. What else was there to say? There was only ‘okay’ or ‘I’m done,’ and she was nowhere near fearful enough for the nuclear option. So she’d roll with the punches, and she was certain that meant confronting a spitting mad Lucius Malfoy in the very near future.

xxx

**_“Good evening, and welcome to a special Saturday night edition of How Rita Reads It. This afternoon, Democratic Congresswoman Amelia Bones of Florida became the first major party candidate to announce their bid for president. The speech took place in her hometown of Orlando, Florida. We’ve put together some clips of the speech that has many worried about Democrats’ prospects to keep the White House in the 2020 election as the party heads further left…”_ **

_“Growing up as the daughter of a secretary and a trolley driver in the 1970s, I witnessed the economic hardship that even the most hardworking Americans face. And when my dad had a stroke and was no longer able to work, the reality of poverty is one that I became all too familiar with. And here, in 2018, I stand dismayed that there has been no meaningful progress so that children and families don’t have to suffer the uncertainty that mine did._

_“The powerful, the wealthy, the well-connected are seeing their fortunes increase while the middle-class dwindles into the lower-class and we’re left with the most disparate economic stratification that America has ever seen._

_“Many of my colleagues in the House and Senate are sitting at home today wondering why there were so many seats lost in the House in the 2018 cycle. The Democratic Majority in the House lost 27 members on Tuesday, including many of my dear friends; I’m here to say that leaders in our party must listen to the message the American people so clearly sent on Tuesday._

_“Far too many working Americans have asked themselves if either political party truly hears them. The Democratic Party has been so tainted by the influence of special interests and dark money that it has forgotten the working man and woman._

_“As Chairwoman of the House Education and the Labor Committee, know that I hear you. Know that my staff shares your calls, emails and tweets with me daily. That when I hug you on the streets of Florida, I feel your pain. That when I tell you I know what you’re going through, I mean it. The little girl who walked six miles with her mama to a government office when our food stamps were cut in 1982 still remembers what it’s like to go without meals._

_“In America, working hard means you should be able to put a roof over your head. In America, no one should spend 30 years paying off their student loans. In America, our veterans shouldn’t come home from war and end up on the streets. In America, no one should die because they couldn’t afford health care. In America, we fight back against bullies! In America, we believe that this is a land of opportunity for ALL people regardless of race, religion, gender identity, sexuality, disability or country of origin. In America, we have seen the victories that stem from fighting together as one united nation._

_“The American people need to know that the next two years will be an uphill battle as we face a slim House majority and a hostile Senate led by obstructionist Lucius Malfoy. But there is no time to pause in fear or shrug our shoulders and say we can try again in two years._

_“This is the battle for the soul of our nation, and it will take all of us coming together to reclaim our American identity for the values of opportunity, equality, inclusion and freedom. This is the time to fight back against all politicians and leaders, republican or democrat, that stand in the way of unleashing American potential and ingenuity for the good of all people, not just the wealthy and well-connected._

_“Since the time I was a U.S. Senate page as a young woman, to having the honor of my life to serve as a U.S. Congresswoman, I’ve known that this is a fight I want to be a part of. And now, when so much is at stake, I feel confident in my ability to lead this fight. That’s why I’m standing here today to declare my candidacy for President of the United States.”_

xxx

**November 13, 2018**

“It’s not too flashy?” Hermione asked, turning around to look at her butt in the full-length bathroom mirror. Did she look promiscuous?”

“You’re closer to a nun than a stripper right now, Hermione. You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

She just shook her head, unwilling to even be charmed by Draco right now.

“I need to go finish setting up,” Hermione replied, skirting by him and ignoring his puckered lips. Her lipstick had better places to be than his mouth.

By the time the doorbell rang, Hermione was close to a full blown meltdown.

“Calm down,” Draco said, his voice a mix of command and warning. It was what she needed from him. She took a deep breath and nodded.

Draco walked to the front door, his shoes clacking on the floor. Yes, he was wearing shoes. He insisted that his parents would keep theirs on as ‘shoes make an outfit.’ Despite feeling extremely out of her element, Hermione was wearing seasonally appropriate closed toe nude heels with the emerald green sweater dress that she’d bought at Nordstrom with Draco’s black card earlier that week.

Honestly, she didn’t even give a token protest, she’d kissed him and hopped in Pansy’s Range Rover. She couldn’t afford an outfit that was worthy of the Malfoys’ approval, so resistance was futile.

Voices drew closer, and Hermione took one last look at the charcuterie board she’d made for pre-dinner grazing and pretended to fiddle with the stacked china so she didn’t look like she was standing there awkwardly waiting for their arrival.

“Mother, father, I’d like you to meet Hermione Granger,” Draco introduced, looking far too calm.

Hermione may have been a bit socially unobservant, but even a goat could’ve deciphered Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s first impressions of her. Lucius? Disbelief, anger, a quick flick up and down her body, then more anger. Narcissa? She was the human version of the expression ‘clutching pearls.’

“It’s lovely to meet you, Senator and Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione smiled, a slight tremor in her voice as she repeated the phrase that her and Pansy had practiced for days on end.

Narcissa recovered first, stepping forward to clasp Hermione’s now proffered hand in both of her own like the southern lady she was.

“Hermione, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione replied, hoping her skin felt soft enough to the woman whose own hands felt like clouds.

“Miss Granger,” Senator Lucius Malfoy nodded reaching a hand towards her, still dressed in a bespoke suit from his day voting in the Senate.

“Senator,” she replied, taking the firm handshake for what it was. A warning. A threat, maybe. She didn’t let her smile waver; she was holding her ground.

“This looks lovely,” Narcissa said, her light, tinkling voice filling the extremely awkward air. “Where was dinner catered from, Draco?”

Catered? She even had high class terms for ordering takeout.

“Hermione cooked for us,” Draco replied. Hermione didn’t quite understand the glint of amusement she swears was in Lucius’ eye. “She made the cheeseboard herself, all I told her is that you both enjoy figs and goat cheese.”

Narcissa nodded, “Well, it’s so lovely I thought it was catered.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione replied graciously. “Would either of you like a drink?”

“This is Draco’s residence, I’m sure he is capable of serving us in his own home,” Senator Malfoy replied, and Hermione tamped down an apology. Draco made her promise she wouldn’t apologize to his father.

“Certainly, father. Hermione’s chosen a Far Niente chardonnay to go with dinner.”

Narcissa nodded, looking at her husband for only a millisecond before he pulled out a chair for her to sit in. They were set up in the dining room at Draco’s insistence, and Hermione wanted to throw up knowing Draco was two rooms over pouring wine.

“Draco has been uncharacteristically tight-lipped regarding your affiliation with one another, Hermione.” Narcissa shared.

There was no inflection in her words; it wasn’t a question.

Hermione swallowed, “Yes, we’ve kept our relationship rather close to the vest due to the nature of Draco’s job.”

“Relationship, you say?”

“Yes sir.”

What else did she have to add? Where was Draco?

“Lucius, make me a plate, please,” Narcissa instructed, and the normally uncowed man immediately stood up and put together a plate without any instructions. It was a clear testament to how long the couple had been together, to not even need help navigating the landmine that was a charcuterie platter.

“Here we are,” Draco smiled, finally walking back into the room. He poured his mother and Hermione drinks first, ever the gentleman.

She saw Lucius’ eyes on her and wondered if he was the type to make a comment on whether or not she was of legal age. Honestly, with the way he was looking at her like she was trash, she wouldn’t put it past him.

“So Hermione, my son shares you work at the Capitol,” Narcissa said. Again, not a question. Was this southern politeness or was this Narcissa Malfoy? She’d always heard the woman was kind, but that was the description given for most political spouses who weren’t total cows.

“Yes, Mrs. Malfoy. I work for Congressman James Potter,” she replied.

“A west coast Democrat?” Lucius asked.

“Yes, father. My bipartisan efforts with James are actually how Hermione and I met.”

“Oh?” Narcissa asked as she daintily stacked goat cheese and fig onto a cracker. Now, that was a question! They were getting somewhere.

“Yes, ma’am. I went to Draco’s office to receive a sign off on a bill that was being introduced when he walked into the front office… we spoke a bit about shared literary interests, and here we are a few months later.” Hermione smiled easily, again, like she hadn’t practiced these very answers with Pansy. God bless her best friend’s militant approach to this dinner; Hermione would’ve been floundering even more if she’d gone in blind.

“What is your legislative portfolio?” the senator asked.

Well shit. This was the one question that they knew they couldn’t skirt around.

“I’m the staff assistant, sir.”

Narcissa choked on her cracker. Lucius’ eyes almost fell out of his head.

Draco looked like he was going to kick his parents out of the house.

“You mean to say… just how old are you, Miss Gangel?”

Hermione followed Draco’s lead and did not correct the man’s clearly blatant use of the wrong last name.

“I’m 22-years-old, sir.”

“What were there no interns available, Draco?” Lucius spat, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh heavens,” Narcissa sighed.

“Father,” Draco snapped.

“No, really. Would you like a ride to Sidwell Friends? I’m sure there are some girls who’d love to take a Congressman to the fall dance.”

Draco didn’t reply, and Hermione couldn’t look at him. Not when she was trying not to turn into a blubbering mess or rip Lucius’ hair out.

She’d been through worse. So, so much worse. She wasn’t going to cry, not when Lucius Malfoy would only grow stronger with every tear.

“This board is well-balanced, dear,” Narcissa offered a moment later, almost as an apology.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I enjoy hosting others,” she smiled back weakly, knowing she sounded like every wannabe trophy wife.

“Do you live in Virginia or Maryland, Miss Granger?” Narcissa asked, clearly thinking it was a polite question. More like a punch in the gut; did Hermione look unable to afford DC or was it that they now knew her job title and estimated how much she made? Or did she just look unlike someone who lived in DC, if that could even be considered a thing?

“I live in a rowhouse only two streets over, it’s quite convenient.”

“How many roommates do you have?” Lucius asked, as though he expected her to tell him she had nine people shoveled into a house that fit three. By this point, she expected that if she told him that she had an illegal living arrangement, he’d call the cops then and there with a gleeful snicker.

“One,” she replied, using her only potential trump card earlier than she wanted to. “I live with a friend I met during my internship, I believe you know her family. Pansy Parkinson.”

Lucius’ face went slightly white, and Hermione felt her own moment of vindictive glee. She knew it’d only last until their next question, but for now, she would revel in shocking the man.

“The Parkinsons are dear friends of the Malfoys! Lucius was just with Poseidon recently, weren’t you dear?”

The man looked like it pained him to know Hermione had anything in common with him other than being a living, breathing human.

“Indeed, darling. Miss Parkinson is a nice young woman, I’m pleased to know her talents are being utilized in Draco’s office.”

“She’s grateful for the opportunity to work for Draco,” Hermione smiled, knowing that Draco was probably rolling his eyes at the fact that his father thought Pansy an angel. “I know she finds the work challenging and rewarding, as any good job should be.”

Lucius nodded stiffly.

“If you’ll excuse me while I finish up plating dinner,” Hermione smiled, looking much more composed than she felt.

Draco stood up and pulled her chair back, and Hermione was grateful. She felt everything he couldn’t say in that gesture alone.

Hermione didn’t give herself a chance to falter as she grabbed the tinfoil covered dishes out of the oven and brought them into the dining room that was suspiciously silent as she walked in. Way to make a girl feel like she wasn’t being discussed.

“Do you need any help?” Narcissa asked politely.

“I’m all set, thank you,” Hermione smiled as she placed two oyster grey Le Creuset casserole dishes on the table. She could see the Malfoys trying not to peek at what she made for them while she was still there, like curiosity was a faux pas. Maybe it was; it wasn’t like Hermione would know. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

She came back with the salad and au jus next, placing them down carefully and mentally high-fiving herself for not tripping.

“Let me grab the chicken, sweetheart,” Draco said, standing up from the table and walking out without even blushing at letting the nickname slip. Hermione followed him, not checking to see Lucius and Narcissa’s expressions at their son’s affection.

Draco pulled her in for a kiss once they’d stepped foot in the kitchen, carefully hugging her so he wouldn’t mess up her curls or makeup. Screw the lipstick, she needed Draco.

“Breathe,” Draco smiled. “You’re fine. My father is trying to scare you off; don’t let him.”

Hermione nodded, stepping away to carve the now rested chicken. Scaring off was an interesting substitution for being a total asshole.

“My brave girl. Your food looks delicious... they will love it.”

“I hope so,” she replied as Draco grabbed the perfectly cooked roast chicken. She’d made the very same meal twice already this week, subjecting Pansy to it once and Draco to it the second time. Everything needed to be perfect, and if that meant test cooking dinner, she was going to test cook dinner.

“Everything smells lovely,” Narcissa smiled tightly as Draco carefully placed the platter of carved meat in the middle of the dining room table. Voila. The Le Creuset serving ware all matched, everything was evenly spaced on the table, and the food was all cooked perfectly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” she replied graciously. “I’ve made a roast chicken, maple-ginger-roasted vegetables with pecans, mashed potatoes, and a mustard greens salad with an apple-dijon dressing. I hope you all enjoy it.”

Hermione was interested to see that Narcissa didn’t move from her seat, but Lucius did. The man filled a plate and placed it in front of his wife before going back for his own. It was a relationship flex that impressed Hermione.

Once the older pair was sat with food, Hermione and Draco stood up to make their plates.

Hermione didn’t touch her food, waiting for Lucius to pray. The man prayed quickly and managed to skirt past mentioning Hermione explicitly in the way only a seasoned politician could.

“Thank you,” she smiled after he prayed.

“Where do you attend church, Miss Granger?” Narcissa asked, clearly now trying to suss out if she was a Christian.

That, more than anything so far, pissed Hermione off. Did they really have that little faith in Draco to think he wouldn’t be dating a Christian?

“I’m a member at District Church in Columbia Heights,” she replied, grinning through the next round of incredulous looks. “How do you find Capitol Hill Baptist? Pastor Dever’s works are extremely useful in building Christian community, I’m sure his weekly services are wonderful.”

“Capitol Hill Baptist is the best church that one could hope to find in such a sin-filled city. Pastor Dever is a dear friend, and I’m grateful to benefit from his spiritual wisdom when in Washington,” Lucius replied, cutting a carrot cleanly in half.

“I’m sure,” she nodded. “My church in Seattle was far less scripture-based than those I’ve attended in DC, so I’m grateful to be in a city that has such diverse and theologically sound congregations.”

“Are you involved in your church, Hermione?” Narcissa asked.

“I am,” Hermione smiled. “I serve on our kids’ worship team as well as a prayer team member.”

“Oh? What does prayer team entail?” Narcissa asked before placing a piece of cauliflower in her mouth with more precision than Hermione had ever eaten anything in her life.

“Our prayer team stands to the side of the stage during communion in case anyone’s in need of prayer. We also are on standby for prayer requests that come up during the week.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. This city needs all the hands and feet of Christ that it can get,” Narcissa praised, and Hermione felt her spirits lift. “This food is delicious. What’s in your potatoes?”

“Oh, I added a bit of canned pumpkin. I hope it’s alright,” she blushed, looking down at her plate to cut some chicken.

“Impressive! I would’ve never thought to add such an ingredient, but it’s certainly apt for the fall. Lucius is a big fan of pumpkin, aren’t you?”

That was an olive branch if Hermione’d ever seen one.

“I don’t hate it, Miss Gangel.”

Gangel.

“Father, you know full well that it’s Granger. If you can’t respect my partner, I’m going to ask you to leave my house.”

Woof.

Lucius just continued eating like Draco had said nothing.

“You mentioned nothing of these rolls, Hermione.” Narcissa said, well-manicured fingers ripping one in half.

“Ah, yes, they’re called Parker House rolls. Are you familiar, Mrs. Malfoy?”

The woman shook her head.

“They’re quite simple to make, the trick is a decent amount of milk and punching the dough down so they end up shaped well. I can share the recipe, if you’d like.”

“Please do,” she replied with a genuine smile.

Hermione only wished that she’d ask for her to call her Narcissa. That’s all Hermione was now hoping for out of this dinner.

“What next?” Lucius asked.

Hermione was quite pleased that no matter how angry he was, he didn’t leave and he didn’t stop eating. Turns out those test runs were worth something.

“Hermione and I are in a relationship, and we’ll begin going out together publicly now that you’re aware.”

“You can’t possibly believe this to be smart, son.” Lucius replied.

“I’m unsure where your confusion lies, father. I wanted you to meet Hermione before we start dating publicly, but you have me regretting inviting you over.”

“Boys, can we not fight?” Narcissa asked tightly, before her face fell as she looked over to Hermione. “Dear, you’re a sweet girl, but you certainly understand our concerns?”

Draco interjected before Hermione could reply.

“Respectfully, I believe we’re past the point where your concerns about my romantic relationships are pivotal. I am a grown man. Hermione and I have been together for months inside of this house out of respect for father’s campaign. The election is over.”

“You think that we’re unable to do basic math? You could be her father,” Lucius replied, eyes ice cold as they stared into his son’s heated ones.

“And I thank God every day that I’m not; I am her partner. If you have legitimate concerns over our compatibility, those will be heard out. But you seem unwilling to even entertain getting to know Hermione, so that doesn’t seem like it will ever be an issue.”

“Your office, Draco.” Lucius replied, standing up and stalking out of the room. A moment later, Hermione was alone with Narcissa.

The silence was painful, but she figured conversation may be even worse.

“My Lucius is a bit… thick-headed, Hermione. He’s also extremely protective of those he loves.”

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s a quality any father should have, in my opinion. I apologize for my boldness, but I also wish for you to understand that I haven’t come here to hurt Draco.”

The woman looked sympathetic. “Dear, in our world, intentions are the least of our worries.”

Your son’s feelings also appear to be the least of your worries, Hermione kept to herself.

“I am, however, pleased to see that Draco’s Le Creuset is finally being pulled out of its boxes.”

Hermione cracked a grin at that. Olive branch two, maybe this one wouldn’t crumble. “I told him that I’d put them to good use the first time I came over.”

“Oh? Do you cook for him often?”

She nodded, “He doesn’t eat much at events, so I’ll have dinner ready for him once he’s back. It’s the least I could do.”

“I’m certain your schedule is almost as busy as his.”

Hermione shrugged, “I enjoy serving the people in my life, and if that’s making sure he eats dinner, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Hermione. I was much less anxious about his well being when we lived on Capitol Hill.”

“I didn’t know you used to live in the area. When did you move?”

“We moved in 2013 after the home that a young Lucius promised to purchase if it ever came on the market was on sale. Kalorama is a lovely area, just extremely inconvenient.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Hermione replied, standing up and moving around the table to pour more wine into Narcissa’s almost empty glass. Heaven knows she needed it.

“Speaking of lovely, your dress looks very nice on you.”

“Oh, thank you!” Hermione replied, feeling like she was finally guzzling breath after her oxygen tank had run out the second the Malfoys had walked into the house. “That’s very kind.”

“Draco mentioned you spend much of your time in the house. What do you do together?”

Hermione smiled as she thought through everything they did together. “A lot of talking, certainly, we cook and bake, watch television, and over August recess we formed a book club. We’re currently reading through our third book together.”

Narcissa seemed unable to stop a smile from growing on her face. “What are you reading?”

“It’s a bit of a controversial pick, but we’re reading Love and Respect by Emerson Eggerichs.”

Narcissa laughed loudly, a beautiful and surprisingly boisterous sound. She sounded far more alive than Hermione ever expected someone like the blonde woman to be in the throes of joy. There were signs of human life after all.

“Oh, heavens, my girl. It’s like you want to be crushed under the weight of the male ego before you’re even married.”

“These are important conversations… faith, intellectual chemistry, just how heavy Draco’s male ego is… I want to know.”

“I was married at seventeen,” Narcissa smiled. “It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for women of my background at the time, but we certainly weren’t having these conversations.”

“That’s certainly understandable… it looks as though it worked out well, even without controversial marriage books.”

“Marriage is a constant struggle between compromise and desire, Hermione. Even more so when you’re married to a Malfoy man… it’s a gift, but it’s one that doesn’t come without strings.”

As though this was a movie and their conversation was one the director wanted to hold viewers in suspense over, the sound of footsteps sounded through the house.

“Hopefully they’ve made amends,” Narcissa said with a sigh that made her look like a movie ready damsel in distress.

The men sat back down as though nothing were amiss.

“All well?” Narcissa asked, a perfectly sculpted brow raised at her husband.

“Certainly,” Lucius replied. “Miss Granger, I apologize for any offense you may have taken at my words.”

That was not an apology, Hermione thought to herself.

“Certainly, sir. I hope we’re able to continue building a relationship so you can see I mean you and your family no harm.”

“Certainly,” Lucius repeated.

Well… it was a start.

The meal ended on as positive of a note as it could, with both Malfoys praising her apple pie and ingenuity in whipping up maple cinnamon whipped cream to go along with it in lieu of ice cream.

Hermione felt awkward as they wrapped up, wondering what the couple was going to say. They would’ve left if they were angry enough to ask Draco to end his relationship, right?

“This was… a lovely meal and a trying evening. I apologize for any hurt you may feel, Miss Granger, but ask that you sympathize with my husband and I. We care deeply about our son, and though we wish to see him married, this was never a path we saw that coming through,” Narcissa said quietly as Lucius and Draco cleaned up at her request.

“I can understand your reservations, ma’am. I just hope that as you ruminate over the night’s events, both you and your husband can keep in mind that your son is smart and worthy of your trust in all of his decisions. This isn’t about me, at the end of the day; it’s about having trust in Draco.”

Narcissa patted her cheek softly like an old timey movie actress. “I can tell you care about him, dear.”

That was it. The woman walked away, not even completing her thought with a placation or a warning. Lucius only nodded stiffly at her as he walked out, after Narcissa wrapped up her tall son in a hug that he stiffly returned.

Hermione let her tears fall when the door shut.

Draco walked towards her after locking the deadbolt, pulling her into a tight hug.

“What do you say to a bubble bath?” Draco asked.

“You have bubble bath?” she asked, voice sounding croaky as she continued to cry.

“I do,” Draco confirmed, bending his knees a bit to heft Hermione into his arms and heading up the stairs. “You stay right on the bed, and I’ll get the bath all set up.”

Hermione wasn’t going to object to his directions and curled up like a miserable fool on his bed. His white duvet that she was definitely getting mascara all over.

“Ready? I think this is kind of a fun surprise…” Draco smiled, leaning against the bathroom door.

“What?” she asked, sitting up.

“C’mere,” he beckoned. “I went to a store in Georgetown, it’s called Lush… the gal working there talked my ear off for a good 30 minutes after I told her about what you may like.”

Hermione giggled. “What did you say?”

“Oh, just that you have beautiful, big curls, the prettiest, milky pale skin that’s buttery soft and that you like all things peppermint and cinnamon and book scented.”

She laughed out loud at that before jolting at her expression. Mascara was everywhere, making her look like a terrifying Snapchat filter in human form.

“Let me clean my face first,” she sniffled, taking her face wash and wiping her skin clean. Honestly, she felt wasteful even using makeup to meet the Malfoys; it clearly hadn’t impressed them. “Okay, I’m good. Where’s the bubble bath?”

“You need to get in first,” Draco replied, shrugging.

“Draco!”

“Let me have a fun surprise,” he replied. “Now get undressed and in the bath.”

“Are you coming in?” she asked as she pulled her dress over her head.

“No, sweetheart, this is a bath for one.”

“You don’t want to?” she asked. She still hadn’t seen Draco fully naked, so the idea of a bath being the first time was a bit weird. How would water change the dynamics of foreplay, anyways? She made a mental note to Google that later.

Draco didn’t move from his position by the tub, but smiled softly. “Hermione… I am taking care of you, that means you are taking a bath.”

“Okay,” she replied as she stepped out of her underwear and folded everything up nicely to grab later.

“Careful,” Draco called as he grabbed her hand and helped her climb into the bath. “Feel good?”

“So warm,” she sighed, laying back despite knowing that bared her entire body to Draco. By this point, she felt as shameless as Eve before the forbidden fruit consumption. Draco was safe, and she couldn’t feel unconscious when he saw her body. It was weird, how quickly that confidence had taken root; it was yet another reminder of how feeble the human mind was.

“Now, this little guy is called a bath bomb. You throw it in the bath and it’ll make your skin soft and smell even better than it already does.”

“You sound like a serial killer when you talk about my skin so reverently,” she giggled.

“You won’t know I’m a serial killer until it’s too late,” Draco growled back. “Now, watch this…”

Draco dropped a chalky, bright green ball into the bath and it immediately started fizzing and turning the clear water a dark red.

“Pretty. Why’d she pick this one out?” Hermione asked, swishing her hand through the water to make sure the fizz ball made its way around the ridiculously sized tub.

“Well, it’s called Lord of Misrule and it’s a fall favorite…” Draco shot a glare at Hermione when she laughed at his detailed explanation. “It smells like patchouli and black pepper oils, and she said a lot of people who enjoy spicy aromas like cinnamon buy it. Was she wrong?”

“Draco!” Hermione called out, shaking her head against the back of the tub. “It smells really good… different, but really homey.”

“I’ll go back and give her a good review, then. Now, here’s the part she was very excited about… close your eyes.”

Hermione did, and jolted at the feeling of something cold on her face.

“Keep them closed… It's a face mask called Mask of Magnaminty. It’s a deep exfoliator… I may have tried it out earlier today.”

Hermione snorted, but kept her eyes closed. “It feels like there’s mint toothpaste on my face.”

“It’ll feel even better when you leave it on for a bit,” Draco replied.

“This is a full service salon,” Hermione replied, feeling extremely loved. “Do you… what did you and your dad talk about?”

Draco sighed. “I just want you to relax tonight, sweetheart…”

“I can relax and have this conversation at the same time.”

“Not sure that’s possible knowing you, Hermione.”

“Please, Draco,” she replied, voice soft in a way she hoped would bend him to her will.

“If you start to get upset we’re holding this until tomorrow,” Draco warned.

“Fine… just please tell me what he said.”

“Well, seems he had a conversation with Governor Macnair today and he received word on who’d be appointed to the senate seat if he became president.”

“Isn’t it really far down the line? Why are they having these… is it you? Draco?” Hermione asked, mind catching up to her words after a moment.

“Yes,” Draco replied, voice tight. Hermione cracked open an eye, minty mask be damned.

“Love, that’s amazing. You deserve it more than anyone I know, which feels weird to say about a hypothetical appointment regarding a hypothetical presidential election victory, but I mean it. You deserve it.”

“It’s a lot to parse through.”

“Meaning what? Us?” she asked, voice uncertain.

“No, baby. Not us, everything but us. I had a conversation with Yaxley this morning, and he said that he and other members of party leadership want me to run for Energy and Commerce Committee ranking member.”

“Draco! That’s exactly what you’ve wanted!” Hermione smiled, face cracking the mask as she sat up and splashed water against the high sides of the tub.

“You’re ruining my work,” Draco frowned, though his eyes showed just how pleased he was at Hermione’s excitement.

“Sorry, sorry. I just get excited.” she replied, lying back down and closing her eyes like this really was a spa.

“I appreciate it, sweetheart. There’s just a lot on my plate, but I’ll continue to have conversations and let you know where I land.”

“For which? The Senate or E&C?”

Draco huffed a laugh, “If I’m appointed for the Senate, no isn’t really an answer, and I don’t think father would let no be an answer. Energy and Commerce… it’s a lot of work, and I know a few names are still floating for chairman.”

“I wish I could say ‘or woman,’ but that’s not in the cards.”

“You could be, one day.”

Hermione shook her head rapidly. “I found out two days that you have to be bonkers to run for office. No way in hell.”

“I’ll be here thinking up campaign slogans in case you change your mind…”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, but no thank you. Now, back to it… what else did your father say?”

“Honestly, Hermione… you don’t need to worry about him. Mother liked you, she even patted your cheek. That was akin to smacking a kiss on your lips and asking you to brunch.”

Hermione cackled at the image. “Dinner was a funny way of showing she wants to go for bottomless mimosas, Draco.”

“I told you my parents were tough to crack… you can’t get discouraged. I’d ask you down to Charlotte for Thanksgiving if I knew my Aunt Bella wouldn’t be there.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“What isn’t wrong with her is a better question. She’s an NRA spokesperson, for one, and she’s just always been a bit off her rocker.”

“I thought you liked guns?”

“There’s a difference between believing in protecting one’s home and spending your day fear mongering about how to get more people to buy guns.”

“She’s going to love me,” Hermione replied with a small smile. If she couldn’t make jokes, she would be in worse shape than she was.

“She will get over herself by the grace of God and grandma’s boot in her backside.”

Hermione laughed. “What a way with words… what will your grandparents think?”

“They’ll all be elated, honestly. Grandfather Malfoy is a marshmallow in the shape of an elder statesman, and he’ll probably try to take you home and never let you leave. In a very paternal, not creepy way. Grandmother, his wife, is no nonsense, which is where I think dad adopted some of his sensibilities from, but at the end of the day, she’s a 75-year-old God-fearing woman from Mississippi. She wants more great-grandchildren, and that usurps basically any negative quality you could have.”

“Besides bad genes,” Hermione replied without thinking about the fact that she was joking about their children. Too soon. Abort mission.

“No overbite or weird gums to see,” Draco confirmed.

“Weird gums?”

“I’m sure there’s a scientific term, but… I’m not a fan of ugly mouths. If you smiled and I saw something off putting, I’m not sure your brain or pretty face could even save you.”

“That’s awful, Draco!”

“What? Do you want honesty or for me to tell you I’m attracted to every quality that women have?”

“I don’t think I’d like that, but still. You sounded cruel.”

“You have a beautiful mouth, so don’t worry.”

“Not worrying,” she replied drily. “About this at least. Everything else… that’s a lot. I can’t believe they brought up the Senate seat this early; it feels like putting the cart before the horse.”

“That’s how politics function, they have to jump twelve steps ahead to make sure everything works eleven steps behind.”

“So what now?”

“Now, we go to Eastern Market this weekend, buy some quesadillas from the food truck Blaise always talks about, and buy you some end-of-season apple cider from the apple stand you love.”

“Sounds perfect,” Hermione replied.

Because it did; and that’s the conundrum they found themselves facing. If they had a solid foundation, did it really matter what anyone else thought? As they stepped out together publicly for the first time that weekend, Hermione was pretty sure they’d find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments keep me writing quickly; let me know what you think.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com or on Facebook at 'Marie IKindaNeedAHero'
> 
> Thank you to the brilliant and unmatched Elle Morgan-Black for her work on this.
> 
> Additional reading (as always, buzz me if you want to read more or have questions or want book suggestions!): 
> 
> Basic explainer of the House of Representatives and its purpose: https://www.house.gov/the-house-explained
> 
> Basic explainer of the Senate and its purpose: https://www.senate.gov/history/powers.htm
> 
> Steering Committees in the US House of Representatives: https://firstbranchforecast.com/2020/07/20/who-steers-the-ship-an-examination-of-house-steering-and-policy-committee-membership-in-the-116th-congress/
> 
> History of committees in the US Congress: https://history.house.gov/Education/Fact-Sheets/Committees-Fact-Sheet2/


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I did :) Thank you to Elle Morgan-Black for being the best and helping with these monster chapters and ever-growing plot.

**November 17, 2018**

“It’s weird to see your whole face when we’re out together in public,” Hermione smiled.

“All of my seasonally appropriate hats are back in North Carolina, so you’re stuck with me,” Draco shrugged, unable to keep a grin off of his face. “Do you buy groceries here every week?”

Hermione shook her head, “Farmer’s markets are too expensive, but I like walking around… especially now that Christmas trees are out.”

“I’m not sure it’s even lucrative for farmers to drive into the city for this,” Draco replied, unwilling to just experience the fun of a weekend market without snark.

“I’m sure it is, it’s always busy. Where to first?” she asked, unwilling to take the bait as they took a left onto 7th Street SE where Eastern Market was located.

“You’re the one making dinner, sweetheart,” Draco replied, taking Hermione’s hand into his own as they stepped onto the crowded streets that were shut down for the weekend market. He winked at her as she looked at him after he grabbed her hand.

“Do you still want to make the sauce we saw Bobby Flay make, but with chicken?”

“Cheese and spinach stuffed chicken with cranberry-serrano relish? Absolutely,” Draco replied. “I feel like it can’t possibly be good, so we’ll try it ourselves.”

Hermione shook her head with a laugh, “Why would you make something you think will be bad?”

“Well… I have a theory that most Food Network recipes are garbage and their hosts masquerade as good chefs while they’re only mediocre. This will be our first experiment.”

“You’re so cynical,” Hermione sighed. “We can get fruits and vegetables out here, then go into the inside market for the meat vendor if you don’t want to save a few dollars on chicken at Trader Joe’s.”

Draco’s snort was answer enough.

She was aware of the casually not casual stares that they were receiving. This was DC after all, and everyone knew what high-profile Members of Congress looked like. Especially the hot, single ones.

They shopped quickly, placing all of the food they purchased into the reusable bags draped over Draco’s arm. It was an uneventful trip, and that had Hermione dancing internally. Maybe this could work.

“Do you decorate your house here for Christmas?” Hermione asked as they walked out of the food section of the market and back through the section full of art vendors.

“Sometimes. I did in 2013 when we were here over the shutdown - I’d just moved in a few months earlier.”

“Do you want to get a wreath?” she asked, nodding to the vendor with gorgeous live wreaths.

“Pick one out,” he smiled, leading her over to the booth.

“This one,” she said almost immediately, grabbing one with red berries and a bright red bow on top. “It’ll look pretty every time I walk up.”

“I thought the point was to spread cheer to others?”

“I don’t live with you, making me an ‘other,’” she replied with a playful smile, almost bouncing up on her toes to kiss him before realizing where they were. The twinkle in Draco’s eyes told her he recognized exactly what she was about to do.

“Fair point,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” a tall, thin man interjected. He was dressed in khakis, a flannel and a Patagonia vest, making him look like every other man in DC.

“Yes?” Draco said, turning to him without letting go of Hermione’s hand.

“Just wanted to say congratulations on your win, man. I’m not from your district, but glad to know you’re fighting the good fight here in DC.”

“Well thank you very much. That means a lot to me,” Draco replied in a way that made it clear to Hermione that this wasn’t his first time having this sort of conversation.

The other man, however, did not based on his awestruck expression. “Of course, I couldn’t leave without saying hi… sorry to interrupt your morning.”

“No worries, appreciate your kindness, sir. Have a nice day, now,” Draco replied.

As they walked off together, Hermione let out a giggle. “Have a nice day, now sounds like something a southern villain in a movie would say.”

“What? It was a neatly tied bow to the end of our conversation,” Draco replied.

“Does that happen often?”

Draco nodded, “It does… most people are nice, like him, some want something from me… but in DC it’s mostly just folks like him.”

Hermione bit down a question she had about women who came up to him in DC.

“That was uneventful,” she replied with a smile.

“That’s good!” Draco replied. “DC people are used to seeing politicians out and about, this is no new thing.”

“Hot politicians who top the most eligible bachelor lists having a significant other are no new thing?”

“You think I’m hot?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think your Instagram notifications feed your ego enough for it to be healthy without my thoughts.”

“They don’t matter to me. Just you. I remember when you kept callin’ me Congressman even when I insisted you call me Draco. Now you’re talking about how hot I am in public… how the turn tables.”

Hermione laughed loudly at The Office reference. “I knew you liked that episode.”

“Deflection?”

She blushed. Leave it to Draco to get her to talk about how hot he was on the streets of DC.

“I think you’re handsome, okay? But I think you’re smart and witty, and I like those qualities more than your face.”

“You make a man feel real, real special, sweetheart.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiled, enjoying the following silence as they walked back to Draco’s house. An almost dangerous contentment settled over her as she thought how easy it would be to get used to this.

xxx

“What do you think?” Hermione asked, watching as Draco took his first bite of chicken and looked deep in thought.

“It’s actually good,” he grumbled.

“Shouldn’t you be happy about that?” she asked, turning back to the asparagus that was cooking in a skillet.

“I guess so,” he replied, cutting off another piece off the same chicken breast and dipping it in the relish. “Try it.”

Hermione opened her mouth, accepting the bite from his fork. A spicy cranberry sauce on cheesy chicken was actually scrumptious. She knew Bobby Flay wouldn’t have a bad recipe in his repertoire. “It’s delicious!”

“You’re delicious,” Draco replied, voice a low growl.

Even after he uttered the most textbook phrase ever, Hermione let out a gasp as Draco kissed her.

“So pretty,” he peppered kisses along her neck. “Just want to keep you locked up in my room and never let you out.”

“Oh? Would you be allowed out?”

Draco shook his head, “Solitude pact. We’d never leave.”

“Sounds good to me,” she smiled. “I need to finish cooking or I’ll burn the asparagus.”

Hermione thought for a second that Draco would leave her alone, but rethought that as he gently slipped a hand up the bottom of her knit sweater to gently thumb her nipple.

She was feeling a bit bold and moved her hand back to try and slip it in his sweats, but he gently clasped her fingers in his own and put it back at her side.

“Draco,” she said, the word sounding more like a groan than a question. “Why don’t you ever let me touch you?”

“All in good time, sweetheart.”

“Hasn’t enough time passed? It’s new to me, but I want to learn,” she frowned.

Draco removed his hand from her shirt as she’d effectively killed the mood. Before she could worry about his reaction, though, he hopped up on the counter and looked over.

She tried again, nothing if not insistent. This time she knew she’d get an answer.

“Do you think I want to save myself for marriage?”

The way his eyes widened told her everything she needed to know.

“For someone who prides themselves on communication… why didn’t you just ask?”

Draco smiled sheepishly. “Consider this me asking.”

“No, Draco,” she met his eyes as gently as she could when she really wanted to whack him for being so obtuse. “I remember being in my church group back in Seattle, surrounded by couples who were abstinent. Which I get; I do. But… I’ve just witnessed the mutual destruction in my parents’ relationship from their secrets and their vices. Intimacy is important, and I’m certain it won’t send me to hell, but it might save me from being in a relationship that feels like hell.

“Have you dated women who are saving themselves for marriage? I’m assuming your mother’s dropped a few of those on your doorstep.”

Draco smiled wryly.

“I have. We were also incompatible. It’s a sacrifice I wasn’t willing to make at the time, and am still not. Sexual intimacy is critical to knowing if you’re compatible with your partner.”

“That’s really hard,” Hermione sympathized.

“Relationships are hard, but that’s why we need to talk. So sorry for letting you down on this one, sweetheart. Let’s eat this ridiculous meal and then we can talk a little more. But first, let me post this masterpiece on my Instagram story…”

Hermione agreed. Finally, she could get some answers. It was a bit odd, having skirted around conversation on anything sexual. The man had seen her naked, taken care of her in the bath, yet she hadn’t even seen his penis. Was it messed up? Did he not like having it touched? There were so many thoughts that had started to sprout up in her head the more this went on. He took care of her so well that she wanted to be able to reciprocate.

Dinner was an easy affair with an undercurrent of tension. Draco had suggested getting into pajamas before the conversation, and Hermione found herself laying on his bed with her favored fuzzy blanket pulled over her while she waited for him to talk a few minutes later.

“As much as we like to tell each other that our ages and respective professions aren’t a concern, they are. If people see us together, they’re automatically going to assume that I coerced you into a sexual relationship with me. People like to assume the worst of politicians and men in general. I’m no martyr, sugar, but I’ve exercised a restraint that I wasn’t aware I had over the past few months. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later or feel pressured to be in a relationship with me… both for your own health and everything that could play out in the public arena.

“I wish it wasn’t this way, but the man is hardly ever blamed. They find fault with the woman… look at Monica Lewinsky, she was a young woman and her name was raked through the mud more than President Clinton’s at the time. It’s a damn shame, but it’s the way power in this world works.”

“I thought something was wrong with me,” she said quietly. “It’s weird, right? Everything is going well, then sex is kind of just looming over us like a dark cloud that won’t go away.

“Growing up, I learned that men just always want to get women into bed. So when you didn’t, I figured you were just being respectful. But there’s a point where you start to worry, you know?”

Draco smiled softly, “I know. And I’ll be damned if I haven’t thought about everything I want to do to you far more than I should at the most inopportune times. There’s a caution that needs to be taken, though, sweetheart. If you were to change your mind, even after something as small as touching me… that’s serious. Especially if anyone thought I’d taken advantage of you.”

Hermione couldn’t help it; she crawled over to Draco. He looked too forlorn to be left alone.

“I’m grateful that you care this much. I hope you know how serious I am, Draco. That this isn’t a fleeting thing or a hookup. This is real. I feel like you may be a bit scared that I’m going to run away screaming. I’m not, I promise.”

Draco kissed the skin from his shirt that was slipping down her shoulder.

“Got me in one, sugar. I’m going to continue to ask for your consent, though. This is new to you, and I don’t expect you to enjoy everything I enjoy.”

“It’s so overwhelming to think that every couple I’ve met has had conversations like this,” Hermione said after letting everything sink in for a moment.

Draco snorted, “Why do you think the divorce rate is so high? People don’t have these conversations. They just shove their wants and needs to the side, sexual or otherwise. I told you when we first met; I’m a blunt man. There’s no need to suffer in a relationship just to be in a relationship.”

Draco pulled her in for a kiss. “I like a lot of things about you… but the fact that you’re willing to be as honest and cautious as I am is top of the list. I’d rather talk things through before acting in every situation.”

“Same,” Hermione piped up. “Much to the annoyance of everyone I know.”

“To hell with them… we can be careful together.”

“So let me say it directly… I want more Draco,” she smiled.

The man looked at her with a hungry look in his eyes, and he reached one big paw over to pull her onto his lap.

Draco let out a soft groan as their lips met, and she felt that. Deeply.

There was a sense of rightness and relief that could only come from the understanding she now had in her relationship with Draco.

He liked her. He thought she was beautiful… he thought about her naked.

She’d seen his hungry looks, but to have him acting on them after months of dancing around one another?

It was everything.

She was only in her panties and his t-shirt, which had already rucked up around her hips. She could feel Draco growing hard under her, and the logical part of her wanted to marvel at that.

The recently-awakened sexual deviant, however, had her whimpering into their kiss and rolling her hips a bit to feel more friction on her core.

Unlike every other time she’d attempted to rub herself against him, Draco did not stop her. He ran his hands down her body, stopping to rub her already stiff nipples to peaks through her shirt before landing on her hips. She let out a loud moan as he started to move her against him, the feeling of his cock enough to fuel a lifetime of daydreams. He held her, controlling her movements and squeezing tightly like he couldn’t bear to let go.

She was no penis expert, not even close, but his clothed dick felt thick enough that she felt it _everywhere_. There was no reprieve from the friction as he rocked her forward and backwards, not that she wanted any. Honestly, she thought she might cry if Draco pulled her off of him when her core was already pulsating with need. She knew that if she were to look down, she’d see a wet spot on his grey sweats from her arousal, and that knowledge only made the moment even hotter.

“Draco,” she whimpered, reaching a hand up to tug at his shirt.

He removed a hand from her hips at that, but didn’t cease for even a second in the unforgiving tempo. Her eyes popped open in shock as he pulled her hand down from his chest and held it tightly behind her back.

“No, Hermione.”

“Please, let me see you,” she whispered against his mouth, nipping his lip in reprimand as she weighed whether or not to use her other hand. Would he really stop her?

"Just because I let you on top doesn't mean you're in charge, sweetheart,” he growled, nipping back and driving her even harder over himself.

She could feel the head of his dick hit her clit with every stroke as he increased his pace, and the moan she let out wasn’t of her own volition. It was like Draco knew exactly how to direct their bodies for maximum pleasure. Realistically, she assumed that was pretty easy with a penis that large.

She didn’t know a moment without Draco against her, showing her a glimpse of the heaven it’d be like to have him inside of her. She needed it.

“Please,” she squealed, thighs shaking as her climax drew closer.

“Perfect,” Draco groaned, just as desperately. “Cum with me, sweetheart.”

Hermione couldn’t be held accountable for what escaped her mouth, the feeling of her own wetness merging with Draco’s through the thin fabrics that separated them was the hottest thing she’d ever experienced as she slumped forward. Their panting breaths were the only sound in the room, the only evidence of their first shared orgasm smeared in her panties and the interior of his pants.

She rocked her hips again against Draco’s, hoping to feel the wetness that was evidence of her bringing him pleasure.

“Gonna kill me, sweetheart,” he said, squeezing her hips in warning.

She could feel the telltale sensation of bruising, and that… that was weirdly hot. It was definitely a thing that she didn’t know would be a thing.

To know that she was going to go into work that week in her modest dresses with Draco’s handprints branding her as his with the people of DC none the wiser… it was almost enough to have her begging for round two. She yawned, her warm breath clouding against his now sweaty neck. Almost.

**November 22, 2018**

Hermione knew her faults. Top of the list? An inability to say no to anyone close to her. She had always been incredibly loyal, which made disappointing the very few people she considered close to her down.

Which is how she ended up at the Potter-Evans DC Thanksgiving dinner.

Harry had told her to come over to his parents’ home at 10am to pregame before the Lions game started and enjoy “a day of football and food.”

After holding out as long as she could, Hermione knocked on the Potter family’s door around 2:30pm. Lily opened the door with a bright smile, pulling Hermione into a careful hug.

“Hermione! Welcome to our first DC Thanksgiving!” Lily greeted. “We’re so happy you could join us.”

“Thank you so much for having me, Lily,” Hermione replied. She’d gotten on a first name basis with the woman during the many hours spent driving around over the election, and after realizing how awful it was when adults didn’t ask you to call them by their first names… cough Lucius and Narcissa cough… she decided she’d honor the woman’s request.

“No skin off our back! And Harry said you’re a brilliant baker, which is fantastic since I can’t bake for the life of me!”

Hermione had been a bit bored and lonely with both Pansy and Draco gone, so much so that she’d made chocolate chip cookies, cranberry tart, apple pie and pumpkin pie. This was her cry for help.

“I got a little too into baking,” Hermione smiled sheepishly. “I think you’ll have dessert for days.”

“With James and Harry here? I think it’ll be gone in minutes! Take your shoes off, Harry is in the living room and my parents will be here soon,” Lily directed, grabbing the stack of tins from Hermione’s arms.

A little while later, Hermione had a glass of wine in her hand and Harry squished up against her side while he got far too into a football game that no one present had stock in.

She felt like 3pm was too early to be drinking, but then again, with the way her boss and his son were shouting at the TV, she rethought that.

“When’s Padfoot coming, dad?” Harry asked.

“He should be here any minute,” the older man replied.

“Who?” Hermione asked, quiet enough so only Harry could hear.

“My godfather,” he smiled. “You’ll love him, he’s dope as hell. Literally.”

Whatever that meant.

Pansy was off in Hilton Head, texting Hermione sporadically over the past few days. Hermione didn’t necessarily understand the point of going to an expensive beach when it wasn’t even warm enough to lay out, but she wasn’t going to bring that up to Pansy. Rich people weren’t meant to be understood.

Draco, on the other hand, was with his entire family in Charlotte. Hermione had a full blown panic attack at the thought of attending a Malfoy-Black holiday, which she was certain would happen over Christmas. She didn’t even have the excuse of going to see family; she would just look like a coward if she said no. And Hermione was no coward.

“Smells good!” a new voice came from the front hall.

“Padfoot!” Congressman Potter called, standing up from the well-loved recliner he was lounging in and moving towards the front door.

Hermione had hoped they’d at least mute the very loud television, but no dice. Harry didn’t even move, despite saying how excited he was to see this newcomer. Was football really that captivating?

“Hermione, I’d like to introduce you to my dearest friend, Sirius Black.”

“Sirius? Like the dog star? Hi, sir, it’s nice to meet you,” Hermione replied, standing up to shake the man’s hand.

“So polite!” the attractive man with shoulder-length black wavy hair said. Hermione recognized his eyes immediately and tried not to stiffen or stare. “And yes, unfortunately I am named after an exploding ball of gas, though I’d say that description is more apt of my mother. Smart girl… Where’d you find this one, Harry?”

“Oh!” Harry choked on his beer, almost shoving the neck of the bottle fully into his mouth. “She’s not… never.”

Way to make a girl feel special.

“Hermione’s one of my brilliant team members, but went to school with Harry.”

“Nice,” the man replied.

“Want a beer?” James asked, receiving a snort in reply as Sirius followed him to the kitchen that Lily wouldn’t allow her in.

**Hermione: Are you related to a Sirius Black?**

She put her phone down on her lap, not expecting Draco to reply. He’d been texting on and off all day, but not enough to satisfy the pang of loneliness that a holiday without a real family brought her.

That’s why she jolted a bit when her phone vibrated almost immediately.

**Draco: Run. Away.**   
**Draco: I will buy you a turkey if you go home right now, sweetheart.**

There wasn’t even time to reply before the man who had Draco worried came back in and made itself at home to her right.

“So, Hermione, what do you do for James?”

“I’m staff assistant, sir. I manage the front desk, schedule tour requests, coordinate our intern program, and write the congressman’s correspondence.”

Sirius whistled, “Sounds like a tough gig. You paid well?”

Hermione blushed, looking to see if Harry was listening. To no one’s surprise, he was not, mouth half open as he leaned forward on his knees and stared at the TV as though something actually interesting was on.

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate, sir.”

“Stop with the sir business, that’s also not appropriate for me.”

“How did you meet Congressman Potter?” she asked, attempting a topic diversion.

“Oh, it was a meeting of magical chance, my girl. We were stuck at the airport bar trying to get back home after summer internships on the Hill, Portland for me at the time, Seattle for him of course, and shared a few brews. Barely made it on our planes we were so drunk, but we’ve been tighter than spandex shorts ever since.”

Okay, Draco may have not been far off with wanting to avoid this one.

“Wow, what a serendipitous meeting,” Hermione smiled. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m the president and founder of Marauder,” he replied as though that said everything.

“Hell yeah he is!” Harry replied. So he was listening.

Hermione frowned, “I’m sorry, I’m unfamiliar.”

The man smiled, a predatory little expression. “Where’d Prongs find a girl this sweet and innocent?”

“Stop, Sirius,” Harry replied, only looking over for a second. “She’s half your age.”

“Sorry, little lamb. Marauder is a cannabis company, we’re the largest producer and distributor of North America. I take it you’ve never tried us out?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, sir. Congratulations on your success; do you find yourself in DC lobbying often?”

“Oh, as little as possible, but unfortunately the Republicans don’t make it easy for me to stay on the west coast.”

“Ah, are you a lobbyist?”

“More or less. I have a twisted, tangled web of connections out here in Washington, so I do my best to raise hell and get bills passed. If only my bastard cousin-in-law would pass them in the Senate, my business would be in even better shape.”

Did she dare reply? I mean… more information on Draco’s family was like forbidden fruit shining up at her from a very accessible branch.

“You’re related to Senator Malfoy?”

“Would say it’s a stain on my name, but you can’t really stain black, can you?”

Hermione laughed a bit, hoping to stir on the conversation. She was feeling uncharacteristically cunning.

“His wife’s my dear young cousin who he snatched in his greedy little fingers before she could barely walk.”

“Oh?”

“Married and popped out their demon spawn before they were even out of high school. Unfortunately, my family lives as though their duty is to perpetuate every racist, backwards stereotype that’s ever been laid on the south. Thankfully I got out while I could.”

“Hermione doesn’t want to hear about this, Siri,” the congressman chastised as he walked into the room. “You know I get on fine with Draco, he’s not like his parents.”

“He’s a politician, Prongs, his job is to look relatable and benevolent. Just don’t come crying to me for help when his prized Confederate bayonet is lodged in your back.”

Hermione tried to stop herself from snorting; Draco did not have Confederate memorabilia in either of his homes. She’d asked of course, but the lot of items were with Lucius. Go figure.

“Dramatic, this one is,” James muttered. “Let’s sit out back for a bit, need to tell you what happened last week…”

Sirius left with a tip of his shaggy head towards Hermione.

Hermione checked her phone and saw another text from Draco.

**Draco: Turkey and sides* Dessert if you want it. Name your price.**   
**Hermione: Too late. He’s very… eccentric.**   
**Draco: That’s what you got out of your conversation with him?**   
**Hermione: It may come as a surprise… but he isn’t too fond of your family.**   
**Draco: That is… the understatement of a lifetime. He’s got a penchant for pretty little girls, so keep your distance.**   
**Hermione: Ew. I’m into blonds, anyways. And men who don’t smell like frat houses.**   
**Draco: That so, sweetheart? I guess it’s my lucky day on both counts.**   
**Hermione: I miss you.**   
**Draco: Say the word and I’ll fly you down.**   
**Hermione: You’ll be back in two days, love. Hardly necessary, but appreciated.**   
**Draco: You’ll find that necessity when it comes to your happiness is hardly top of mind for me. Say the word. Also say the word if you want an Uber home and dinner delivered.**   
**Hermione: I’ll let you know.**

“Mione, I’m gonna get some air outside. I’ll be right back,” Harry said, moving at a fast clip to the rowhouse’s backdoors.

Hermione sighed. Didn’t she come here so she wasn’t alone?

**Hermione: Tell me you’re having fun. At least one of us should be having fun.**   
**Pansy: Want to come to Hilton Head? The bartender is making mudslides.**   
**Hermione: You’re going to throw up before you even eat turkey.**   
**Pansy: Mother’s decided we’re doing roast duck; turkey is officially bourgeois.**   
**Hermione: I’ll pretend I know how an animal is middle-class.**   
**Pansy: Gotta go, sis. Say a prayer that I make it to dinner, father’s feeling frisky and risky and betting a shit ton of money on football against my uncles and Perseus. I think I’m going to ask him to redo my bathroom.**   
**Hermione: Prayers going up for your urgent request.**   
**Pansy: *Regina George ‘love ya’ gif***

After a few more minutes alone, Hermione moved into the kitchen. Lily’s kitchen protectiveness be damned, she wasn’t going to sit alone all day.

“Lily? Can I come and sit with you?”

The woman turned around from the potatoes she was mashing, expression moving from one of concentration to a scowl.

“Are the boys out back?”

“They are,” Hermione confirmed.

“I curse the day that James brought Sirius Black into my life and home,” she groaned.

“Is he that bad?” Hermione asked.

“He has a meteoric chip on his shoulder and the worst sense of self-preservation I’ve ever seen. He’s a disaster. Worse, he’s the cool friend James never had, so he’d follow Sirius right off the bridge.”

“And Harry’s hopping off right after his dad,” Hermione finished.

Lily’s smile was small and resigned. “Exactly. I’m sorry they left you.”

“No worries, Lily, you can’t control their actions. Can I help?”

“If you want to roll up the crescent rolls, I have two tubes of Pillsbury dough in the fridge. The last thing anyone needs to do on holidays is make fresh bread.”

“Amen,” Hermione replied, moving to the fridge. The Potter’s home was beautiful, but it was less modern than Draco’s. Her boss flew out on the first flight back west, so she knew it didn’t matter as much for them to constantly switch out their appliances and furniture.

Hermione was glad to talk to Lily while they finished up dinner and welcomed the woman’s elderly parents in. It was clear that they had Lily a bit later in life, since the woman was not even 50 yet. She desperately tried not to think of what people would think if they saw her and Draco together in a few years.

“Grab the boys?” Lily asked as she finished carving up the turkey, the last thing to be set on the table. The Potters didn’t have a formal dining room, so they were set up right in their cozy kitchen.

Hermione saw Harry with a cigarette in his mouth as she stepped outside, but as she remembered Sirius’ company, she was less certain of its contents. Honestly, she did not want to know if her boss was smoking weed; better that remain a mystery.

“Dinner’s ready,” she smiled as she leaned her head out the door. “Lily’s parents have also arrived.”

If they were smoking weed, she hoped that would straighten them up.

“Right on!” James cheered. Guess not.

Thanksgiving dinner with the Potters was unlike anything Hermione was used to.

Lily’s parents, Rose and James, ironic enough, were lovely if not a bit crotchety. They were stereotypical old people, which was something Hermione could play to.

Old people loved her, for the most part. Rose and James were no different, though they were a bit upset to find out Hermione was not Harry’s new girlfriend. Lily did reprimand Harry after he swore on his life that he would never date Hermione. As though she would even date him, honestly.

Hermione's phone buzzed three times during their meal, and she didn’t move it from where she’d stuffed it under her thigh. She was in the same sweater dress that she’d worn to dinner with the Malfoys, figuring it was the nicest thing she owned and this occasion deserved it.

“Boys do dishes, mom, dad, Hermione and I will settle down in the family room,” Lily smiled as everyone finished eating.

“Top meal, Lils! You are the wife I never want, but always wish I had on nights like these,” Sirius replied.

Lily just rolled her eyes. Hermione was glad to get out of the kitchen after placing the apple pie in the oven to heat back up.

She checked her phone in the bathroom. Three texts from Pansy.

**Pansy: Hey**   
**Pansy: Heyyyyyyyy**   
**Pansy: How’s Harry?**

Hermione grinned despite herself, leaning against the wall of the small first floor half-bath as she responded.

**Hermione: We just finished dinner. Why?**

The response was immediate.

**Pansy: Just thinkn about him… Harry Pottahh**   
**Hermione: You will regret it if you text him.**   
**Pansy: Or we fall in love.**   
**Hermione: So that’s the problem. He already thinks he’s in love w you. Text him and you’ll regret it.**   
**Pansy: I’ll see where the Holy Spirit leads me. Peace, love, etc.**   
**Hermione: Holy Spirits***   
**Pansy: That was funny.**

Hermione walked out to the sound of a dish crashing and moved into the kitchen, holding up a hand to Lily. The older woman had done enough, the least Hermione could do was help clean up.

“Everyone okay?” she asked lightly, trying not to sound too patronizing in front of her boss, but also well aware that these men were clearly useless when it came to cleaning up dishes.

“Mione! Guess who just texted me?” Harry smiled, still standing in front of a shattered dish.

Well. The Holy Spirits moved in Pansy’s heart rather quickly. Or maybe it was down her throat.

“Who?” she asked. Harry deserved to have some enthusiasm and build up.

“Pansy Parkinson,” he replied, saying her full name like she was a celebrity. If Hermione could freeze frame and break the fourth wall, she would. This was the problem; Harry didn’t see Pansy as a person. Things would only go downhill from here.

“Nice,” she replied. “I’m going to set the pies up.”

“Another cook in this kitchen? Jamesie, you’re one lucky man.”

James frowned, and Hermione was grateful. “Sirius, stop it. Inappropriate and out of line. Last chance.”

The chastised man held his hands up, “Just being me.”

“Then stop being you in front of my young employee. You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Hermione felt slightly ill thinking about a very similar conversation that had taken place a few weeks earlier. Only the sentiment here was far less sweet.

Her dessert was a hit, and she’d even made it into the Potter family Thanksgiving photo that was shared on the Instagram that James ran for himself. Much to Tonks’ dismay, it was full of weird photos and memes that made no sense to most people.

How did Lee put it… it was like John Cena’s Instagram, only a congressman’s.

Lily insisted on the camera timer because Hermione was family. She wouldn’t lie over having a lump in her throat at that, but smiled through it.

“Are you sure you want to leave Hermione?” Harry asked, fluttering by the front door as Hermione waited for her ride.

“I am,” she smiled. “I’m going to have to go into work tomorrow to put in some White House tour requests, so it’ll be easier if I’m at home. Thank you for having me.”

“I’m so happy you came. You’re like the sister I never had,” Harry replied, pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione immediately felt guilty; he really was a puppy. Hard to stay angry at despite their stupid, irrational and messy actions.

“I feel the same, Harry. I’ll see you soon.”

“Text me when you’re home! Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!”

Hermione shook her head as she hopped into the Uber and headed home.

**Hermione: In a car home.**   
**Draco: A black car I hope?**   
**Hermione: A silver Subaru with plastic coverings on the seats, you mean?**   
**Draco: Exactly. That’s exactly the car I had in mind. I’ll be home soon… call you then.**   
**Hermione: Xo, drive safe.**   
**Draco: Didn’t drink, knew what was coming.**

Well if that didn’t twist Hermione’s stomach into tiny knots.

She was checking on the locks and windows when Draco FaceTimed.

“Hii,” she smiled, face looking oddly shadowed in the bright light of the front foyer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, clearly just walking into his house. Hermione felt warm at the thought that he couldn’t wait to call her.

“Checking the locks and windows before I head upstairs,” she replied, not letting him know that it felt weird sleeping alone when basically no one was around to hear her scream lest someone break in.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Hermione laughed, “Are all men given the same lessons on the importance of home security?”

“I think it’s our caveman instincts, one of the few that carried over into the modern man. Did you have a good night?”

Hermione nodded, walking up the stairs. “It was lovely, Lily is a wonderful cook. Her parents were very sweet too.”

“And the other three?”

She thought about whether or not it’d hurt to share about her boss. “Well, your cousin was a bit weird.”

“Weird is a vague word for pigheaded, irrational, rude and misogynistic.”

“All of the above,” Hermione replied.

“What’d he say to you?” Draco asked, handsome jaw clenched tight.

“James told him to stop, I was surprised, honestly.”

“You shouldn’t have a boss who surprises you when he stands up for women.

“No! No. Let me finish my thought,” Hermione replied quickly. Draco got too far ahead of himself when she was involved, sometimes. “James was very serious, there was no joking in his tone. I just mean that I was surprised he threatened to kick Sirius out on a holiday.”

“Good on him. Sorry he’s such a prick, sweetheart. Are you getting in bed?”

“I am,” Hermione replied. “I’ll leave my lamp on.”

“Just how I like it,” Draco smiled as he walked up the stairs. Hermione noticed that he was in a full suit, not that she was surprised. The Malfoys were far too proper to have anything but a formal holiday meal.

“How was your dinner? You were eerily nondescript.”

Draco sighed, “It was honestly fine for the most part, but father made enough snippy comments that everyone was informed of our relationship by the time the bread basket made it over to me.”

“Everyone meaning both sets of grandparents, your mother’s sisters, their husbands, your great aunt and uncle and their son?”

“Perfect recall as always.”

“How’d they reply?”

“Grandfather Malfoy shut it down quickly, telling father that the holiday is about giving thanks not sharing gripes. But Columba defended us and I thought father had died. He spluttered “Princess!” a few times before regaining his composure.”

“Wow,” Hermione replied, a small smile on her face. “Columba is the best.”

“She is. The four of us stepped into a private sitting room for a conversation, and I can honestly tell you that I think she brought father around.”

“Really?”

“Really… He said that he trusts me, but we all need to sit down with his advisers to concoct a game plan.”

“For what? His White House run?” Hermione whispered the last part, as though someone were listening in even though she was alone in the house.

“Exactly. It’s pretty standard protocol, but it’ll be better to have you meet everyone before we get into the swing of the race. It’ll move quickly.”

“Did you tell your family about the Senate seat?”

“No, that’ll be kept close. The governor could get in serious trouble for jumping the gun, so we’ll only let it trickle around as speculation.”

“Well, my lips are sealed,” Hermione promised.

“I know they are. You are more than I deserve, Hermione.”

“Funny because I feel the same.”

“Accept my compliment.”

“I’m serious, Draco! You’re a good man, and I’m grateful. Can’t I give thanks for you?”

“Hmm… we have two hours left of this overblown holiday, so I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, Draco,” she smiled, feeling a bit shy at having the microphone to use as she wished. “You have brightened my life in so many ways… you make me laugh, you talk back to me, you read with me, and you take care of me… It may sound trite, but you give me the confidence I’ve never had to go after what I want and what you think I deserve. Thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you, sweetheart. I’m just as grateful; I wasn’t aware that I could use a new lease on life until I met you. The next few years are going to be hard, but I know it’ll be worth it.”

“If I had a glass I’d clink it against yours. Oh, that was weird. The Potters didn’t do a prayer, but they had everyone go around and share what they were grateful for… your cousin said he was grateful that he wasn’t in a freezing mansion in the middle of BFE, North Carolina with the gun-toting maniacs he shares DNA with.”

“He’s awful. And it’s literally Charlotte, not the mountains. Could he be more dramatic?

“I’m not inclined to disagree, honestly,” Hermione yawned. “I need to go to sleep… goodnight Draco.”

“Sleep well. Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” she ended the video chat and plugged her phone in for a night of uninterrupted sleep.

xxx

**November 29, 2018**

“Hermione, do you have a moment?” Remus asked, causing Hermione to jump like a frightened cat at her desk.

“Oh, you scared me!” she blushed, drawing a kind laugh from her chief of staff. “Of course, let me finish this email quickly, sir.”

“Take your time.”

Hermione felt caught between panic and more panic. It was a week after Thanksgiving… had she done something? Did someone see her and Draco at Eastern Market or Trader Joe’s or on a walk?

She shook the panicked thoughts out of her head and stood up. Smoothing down her dark purple Calvin Klein dress and light grey Old Navy scarf that she’d taken to throwing around her shoulders like a shawl, she walked into Remus’ office.

The man was already waiting outside of James’ closed door, knocking once before entering and throwing Hermione for a loop. She was close to puking as she followed.

“Shut the door,” Remus said, taking a seat as though he’d done it a million times. Which, to be fair, he probably had.

Hermione, however, had not, and felt like a child in the principal’s office. Also something she’d never experienced in her life, but she assumed this is what it felt like.

“Sorry, one sec,” James muttered, eyes on the paper in front of him that he was marking up with a blue felt tip pen. The room was quiet for a few minutes, which only served to increase Hermione’s nervousness. “Ugh, sorry. E&C hearing remarks for next week.”

“No worries,” Remus replied, though it honestly didn’t matter if they were worried. James was the boss, they lived and died by his schedule. “James and I just wanted to have a sit down with you and see how your year is going and how you’re enjoying your time in our office.”

Oh. This was a far better conversation than she expected.

“Absolutely… It’s hard to believe that I’ve been working here full time for almost a year, but I’ve really enjoyed it and feel like I’ve grown. I’m also proud of the work that we’ve done to increase the number of visiting families who get to meet the congressman and diversify our internship program. One of my top priorities was ensuring that we can open up this opportunity to more than just individually wealthy students, and we’ve seen seven interns now come in on scholarships that our office has set up with local organizations. There are three more in the winter semester as well. I’m grateful for you allowing me to take such an important role on; your trust means a lot to me…”

Remus’ smile was fond. “You are far too humble, Hermione. The scholarships were all you; they also garnered local coverage from every print and TV station in the district. Even though your name wasn’t reported, you are to thank for this incredible program.”

Hermione blushed, shaking her head.

“Far too modest, Hermione! Take some credit… you are an incredibly hard worker. Too hard, honestly, sometimes I have my fingers crossed that you’ll be out of the office when I get back from late votes, but you never are. We saw a spark in you while you were an intern, and you haven’t let us down yet. Right Rem?”

“Exactly, which is why we want to bring you in on something that is close to the chest right now. We ask that you don’t share, but James has been asked by Speaker Dumbledore to serve as Chairman of the Energy and Commerce Committee next Congress. Though they haven’t officially met yet, the steering committee has already unanimously endorsed James as their candidate, which makes this a sure thing.”

“Congratulations, sir! That’s amazing and so well-deserved,” Hermione smiled.

“Thanks, dear.” James smiled, looking like a man who’d just been handed a beautifully wrapped gift basket full of his hopes and dreams. Which, honestly, he had.

“In this role, he’ll have some of our staff move over to the committee to work with other offices and serve as solely committee advisers. Frank has obviously served the congressman since he was first elected, and he will serve as staff director. We’ve also asked Lee to serve as a committee clerk.”

Hermione tried not to smile at what she hoped would come next.

James cut in, clearly wanting to give the good news himself if his grin was any indication. “Which is why we’d love to have you step into the role of legislative correspondent. Lee shared just how much you’ve done with the mail program, not that you’d ever tell us, so we’re confident that you’ll transition seamlessly into the role.”

Remus nodded, “We’d also like to offer you a few legislative issues; you’ve certainly shown that you can handle the increased responsibility. Right now, we’re thinking children, housing and veterans. We’d also like you to help Dorcas with women’s issues, which is obviously an important and expansive one. How does this all sound? I know we’ve thrown a lot at you.”

“This sounds incredible, congressman, Remus. I’m honored and excited for the chance to do legislative work and handle the mail program. Thank you so much.”

“Remus, you almost forgot about money!” James said, eyes wide. “I’d tell her we’re giving her a million dollars, but I know that isn’t right.”

Hermione laughed. One million dollars was a little less than the congressman’s budget for the entirety of the year; she’d be happy with $35k.

“Of course… the conversation that really matters. Starting in January, we’ll be able to bump you up $10 thousand to $42 thousand annually. We also have the matter of an end of year bonus due to the leftover funds we have in the budget. Your December paycheck will have an extra $8 thousand dollars as a thank you for the incredible work you’ve done on behalf of our constituents.”

What. On. Earth.

“Thank you, Hermione. Really,” James smiled. “We’re so glad to have you as a part of our funky little family here in Congress. We both know how totally shitty it is to be a staff assistant. You answer to everyone and anyone, and unfortunately that is a part of the experience of working here on the Hill that’ll never change. But now you get to experience what comes after the shit work; being promoted.”

Remus shot the man a look for cussing twice.

“Wow, thank you so much. Really… I am grateful. Thank you.”

I’d do this work for free if I could, she didn’t say, but she realized she meant it. She loved bettering the lives of others and being able to use her brain for the good of her neighbors.

“Look at her, not even admitting how awful her job is,” James laughed.

“It’s not awful… I knew what I was getting into, and like you said, sir, everyone does it. Hopefully one day soon it’s just a very distant memory.”

“Of course,” Remus smiled. “Let’s finish up the year strong. We’ll announce the holiday schedule soon, so keep your eyes peeled for that.”

“Thank you both so much!” Hermione smiled brilliantly, standing up and walking out through the door she came in, hoping not to draw attention to the fact that she’d been in the congressman’s office. The intern who’d hopped up front to sit at her desk left, and she pulled out her phone to text Draco the good news. It felt amazing to have someone who she thought of immediately to share positive developments with.

She stopped herself after only a moment’s thought; if she shared the news about her soon-to-be promotion, she’d have to tell him that James was going to assume the role as Chairman of the Energy and Commerce Committee. Something that Remus said was private for now. Where was the line between office privacy and sharing with your significant other who was a member of the opposing political party?

Well, she countered herself, Draco is being put up by Minority Leader Yaxley as ranking member on the committee, so what would it hurt?

That’s where she landed. She trusted Draco implicitly, and honestly, there were worse and far more damaging tests of his trustworthiness than something that’d land in the news from ‘anonymous sources’ in a few days anyways as House leadership was being decided in the days ahead. And didn’t he have her holding onto something far bigger with his father’s White House run?

She’d need to trust Draco to make this work, and the only way to do that was… to trust him.

**Hermione: Can you talk?**

She went back to emailing the barrage of constituents who’d angrily emailed asking why she couldn’t set them up for a White House tour on Christmas, as though Secret Service agents had nothing better to do on the holiday than stand sentry for visiting families to tour the space. It took about thirty minutes for him to reply, and by that point she was about to explode with the need to tell someone what’d happened.

**Draco: What’s wrong?**   
**Hermione: Nothing, just need to talk to you. Purposefully vague.**   
**Draco: Come to my office in 20. Private entry will be unlocked. Need lunch?**   
**Hermione: Yes please. Whatever you’re having.**   
**Draco: Leaving conference lunch; will grab you a chicken teriyaki bowl on the way out.**   
**Hermione: My hero. Thank you :)**

She didn’t leave until the 20-minute mark, not wanting to arrive before Draco did. The interns looked shocked to see her taking a lunch break, but she ignored it.

To this point, she and Draco hadn’t met up at the office, but she was fit to bursting if she didn’t tell him immediately. She also trusted that Draco would tell her if he didn’t think it was a good idea to meet up; but she was also certain that the vagueness of her texts either worried or intrigued him. Her bet was on worried.

Hermione looked around the blessedly empty hallway casually before walking into Draco’s office. The man sat at his desk with the normal skyhigh stack of papers in front of him, looking anything but focused. She noticed that he had his curtains that faced the courtyard shut, even though he wasn’t on the ground floor. Draco really was always thinking ahead.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, standing up and only pausing his strides over to Hermione as a smile bloomed on her face. “Or… what’s right?”

“I got a promotion,” she exclaimed, grateful for the immediate hug that she was pulled into.

“Hermione, congratulations! Come tell me everything while you eat.” Draco smiled, pulling her back behind his desk and sitting down. She expected it when he pulled her right onto his lap, but looked back at him nervously.

“Are you sure?”

“No one walks into my office without knocking first, sweetheart. We’re fine.”

“Okay,” she replied, opening up the still hot carryout container. “This actually looks good.”

“Yeah, they got catering from a small restaurant out in Rockville that Yaxley swears by. Take a few bites then tell me about your new job…”

“Well, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?” she turned to look at him, face close to his due to their position.

“My lips are sealed as always.”

“Dumbledore asked Congressman Potter to chair E&C.”

Draco just nodded, looking unsurprised. “That doesn’t surprise me, honestly, now that Binns is stepping down. Maybe James can chair a hearing without staff having to shake him awake.”

Hermione laughed, trying not to spit out the bite she’d just taken. Cuthbert Binns was 79 going on 125. The man was always being blasted on Twitter for falling asleep during committee hearings, despite his role as the chair of one of the most powerful committees in Congress. It was past time that he handed the gavel over to someone else.

“I appreciate you trusting me with that, sweetheart. But what I really care about is your promotion… What's your new role? LC?”

She nodded, holding up a finger while she swallowed. “Lee and Frank will move over to committee, so I’m getting bumped up to LC. You know how Lee is only LC, though? They’re giving me a portfolio.”

“Hermione!” Draco grinned, pressing a kiss to her sauce-covered lips.

“That’s so gross,” she groaned.

“I don’t care,” Draco rolled his eyes, taking a napkin to his mouth. “What issues?”

“Children, housing and veterans. I’ll also get to help Dorcas with women’s issues. I’m so happy…”

“I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for no money or recognition, this is exactly what you deserve. I may’ve had to knock some sense into your boss if you didn’t get a promotion or pay bump.”

“Well,” Hermione drew out. “They are giving me a raise and end-of-year bonus.”

Draco let out a whoop, sounding far too excited for her. Hermione only felt joy.

“You are incredible, sweetheart! No one deserves this more than you… let’s celebrate tonight.”

“Aren’t you flying out?”

Draco shook his head, grabbing the clunky black office phone on his desk and tapping on a few buttons. “Come here and shut the door behind you.”

That was how Blaise walked in on Hermione sitting on Draco’s lap.

“Really?” Blaise asked, crossing his arms and frowning.

Draco held up a hand to him and, to his credit, the man stopped.

“I need Pansy to change my flight to first thing tomorrow morning. I’m staying here tonight.”

Blaise just stared for a moment, clearly waiting to see if Draco would offer anymore information. Hermione felt singularly uncomfortable and wanted to hide under Draco’s desk.

“Is there a problem?” Draco asked next, and Hermione didn’t need to look at him to know that he had a brow raised and a stern expression on his face. In those moments, he looked exactly like his father.

“I’ll inform Pansy of the change now.” Blaise replied, only opening the door to a sliver before slipping through the small crack.

“That was uncomfortable,” Hermione replied in the silence of the room. She hated the idea that she caused a rift in the men’s relationship.

“Sometimes Blaise forgets that he’s also my employee,” Draco replied, dropping his chin on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Friend and staff make for murky waters,” Hermione agreed. She and Blaise had a fine relationship; she knew he was wary of her, and he also knew that his wife loved Hermione and that Draco cared enough about her to dangerously skirt many societal and congressional norms. That mutual understanding of caring for Draco was the closest that they could come to a truce right now.

“Amen… now, how do you want to celebrate? What do you want to eat?”

“I can’t decide if food or money is your primary love language.”

“Money buys food,” Draco replied. She could feel him smiling into her shoulder even though she wasn’t looking. “That’s not an answer, though… what are we eating?”

“Well,” Hermione replied thoughtfully. “We used to go to Pike Place Market and get seafood on special occasions… would you be terribly opposed to lobster linguine with vodka cream sauce? I’ve been craving it for a while.”

“Done,” Draco replied, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’ll meet you at the corner of C and New Jersey at 5:30, then we can just walk to Whole Foods. I’m assuming your friend Joe doesn’t have lobster.”

Hermione laughed, “I don’t know what you have against Trader Joe’s, but no, they do not sell lobster.”

“Figures,” Draco muttered.

They’d stopped at Trader Joe’s last Sunday after her friend Mandy, a staff assistant for another democrat, texted her that all of their holiday items were out. Hermione, ever the peppermint fan, wanted to grab the foaming hand soap before it was sold out.

Hermione had warned him how small the basement-level Capitol Hill Trader Joe’s was as well as how crowded it’d be on a Sunday night after a holiday, but he insisted on coming anyways. She was not surprised when he complained the entire time.

“I need to go back to my office before they rescind my promotion,” Hermione sighed. “Thank you for lunch.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Draco said before kissing her on the lips. Hermione pulled back before Blaise could come in and kill them.

“Thank you,” she beamed. “I’ll see you soon. Text me if you get caught up and I can go to the store alone.”

“Likewise.” Draco kissed the tip of her nose like she was something dainty and precious, and it had her grinning like a fool as she slipped out of his office.

“Hey!” a voice called out through the empty hallway. Pansy. “Why are you making my life harder?”

“Hi,” Hermione grinned, unable to be cowed at her friend’s annoyance.

“You look drunk,” Pansy frowned. She’d clearly just come from the cafeteria since she had a salad in her hands. She’d charmed the gentleman at the premade salad counter to make her a fresh, custom salad every day, which surprised no one.

“Just happy,” Hermone shrugged.

Pansy had the sense to lower her voice, “Orgasm?”

“Pansy!” Hermione squeaked. “At work?”

“That’s sexy. So hot. Know how many times I’ve thought about Theo fucking me on the front desk?”

“Pansy. You are literally in front of your office in the United States Capitol. Please, get it together.”

The girl shrugged. “What’s going on?”

Hermione pulled her over to the side of the hallway, leaning on the wall outside of Draco’s door.

“I got a promotion, a raise and a bonus,” Hermione smiled. Pansy dropped her two phones and salad on the floor as she pulled her into a tight hug.

“Look at you! So it was celebratory sex?”

Leave it to Pansy to ruin the moment. Hermione frowned.

“I’m kidding. I’m so proud of you. Lee is useless and you do half of his job already anyway. Did they fire him?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. She wasn’t going to tell Pansy the rest until later.

“They should fire him and let me watch. What a waste of taxpayer funds.”

“I’ll tell you more later. Go eat.”

“Love you, sis. So proud of you.” Pansy smiled, bending down gracefully to pick up her blessedly unshattered phones and unopened salad. “I’ll happily change Draco’s flight now, but I’m not going to fight for him to have a window seat.”

Hermione laughed, shaking her head as she walked away. Leave it to Pansy to exact her small victories.

xxx

“This is amazing,” Draco groaned, and Hermione felt herself get a bit wet at the sound. It was like everything Draco did either turned her on or had her melting into a puddle of goo.

“I’ve never made it with lobster,” Hermione smiled. “Too expensive, but I knew it’d be good.”

“This bread too…”

“You’ll be pleased to know that I stole the Carmine’s recipe, so you’re in fact eating a middle-class person’s idea of fancy garlic bread.”

“I don’t even care when it tastes like this. I think my parents would even love this.”

“It’s food,” Hermione frowned. “What is there to be snobby about?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Do you really want to know?”

“No. It’s just weird that Members of Congress are so snobby when they portray themselves of, by, and for the people.”

“Name of the game, sweetheart. Just wait until you see father in Timbo boots, jeans and a flannel out on the trail.”

Hermione scrunched her nose, “That even sounds weird.”

“According to Twitter, both of us pull off casual looks extremely well.”

“Yeah?”

Draco nodded, “Absolutely.”

“I can agree on one count,” Hermione smiled, moving to clean up after dinner. Draco was always surprised by how meticulously she cleaned while she cooked, so she only had to throw their plates in the dishwasher.

Draco walked up behind her, pressing a kiss to her neck. She loved when he was so turned on by their conversations that he couldn’t help but touch her. Her boyfriend was someone who was always composed and sure of himself, so seeing him out of control at what came out of her mouth was overwhelming.

Hermione turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck and jumping into his arms. Her dress bunched up around the top of her thighs at that, and Draco used one practiced hand to pull it up over her butt.

“Draco!” Hermione laughed, the sound turning into a moan as two fingers rubbed up against her pantyhose-covered slit. She pushed against them, letting out a whimper at the friction.

“Did you think our celebration was over, sweetheart?” Draco asked in a husky voice that showed she wasn’t the only one affected by the digits pressing at her covered core.

She shook her head, latching her lips onto his neck. Knowing not to leave a hickey, she lapped at his soft skin without any real motive in mind but to have his taste in her mouth.

“Fuck,” Draco groaned as Hermione’s wetness leaked through the tights. She paused for a moment, shocked at the rare expletive, but resumed her neck kisses as he strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He kept up his touching, proving to be an impressive multitasker, until he dropped her on his bed looming over her with his arms caging her on the bed while he stood over her. “Need you naked now, sweetheart.”

Hermione was quick to obey, especially when he used that voice. Letting out a frustrated sigh as her hair got tangled in her attempts to suavely pull her dress overhead without unzipping it, Draco let out a fond laugh and helped her out.

“There she is,” Draco smirked, drawing a blush from Hermione as she undid her bra and sat back down to take her tights off. The last thing she needed was to bash her head open on Draco’s bedside table trying to look sexy.

“Shirt off,” Hermione asked, drawing a sharp look from Draco.

“Do you make the rules, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning over with his shirt still on to trail kisses down her chest.

“Please,” she whined, wanting to feel Draco’s skin against her own.

“I don’t think so,” he murmured, licking around her right nipple but ignoring the stiff, straining bud.

“Draco!”

“So pretty,” the older man crooned, giving her other breast the same unfair treatment.

Hermione strained her chest up, but Draco continued to tease his tongue anywhere but where she wanted it while his hands remained planted on the fluffy duvet. A woman of action, Hermione reached a hand to the back of his head, hoping to guide his head herself.

The outcome was far worse than she’d hoped; Draco stood up entirely, looking down at her with a stern, yet lust-filled expression.

“You trying to boss me around, sugar?” Draco asked, sounding far too amused as he slowly lifted his shirt off and revealed a body that was far too chiseled for anyone with the title congressman outside of a porno.

Hermione took a breath, tipping her head back and inadvertently arching her back as she tried to get herself under control. She was always logical, always rational, always in charge. But for some reason she’d never be able to articulate, laying here at Draco’s mercy felt so good.

“Please,” she whispered, thinking that she was going to have to provide herself the relief she so desperately needed. Wasn’t this supposed to be a celebration?

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please, Draco,” she tried.

He placed his hands back on the bed, trailing his perfectly pointy nose down her throat.

“Please what?” he repeated.

She covered her face with her hands, warring between embarrassment and arousal.

“Please touch me,” she whispered, cursing herself when she knew exactly what he’d ask next. He was nothing if not predictable in his teasing.

“What’s that, sweetheart? Couldn’t hear you behind your hands,” Draco replied, flicking his tongue out to lick her nipple.

Wrenching her hands from her face, she opened her eyes and looked directly into his own molten grey ones. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she fought down the urge to grab his face and shake it.

“Touch me! Please.”

Two fingers pushed into her core, and Hermione immediately moved herself in time with his thrusts.

She’d be impressed later over the way she reached a steady hand out towards him, fumbling with his belt but getting it undone. Without any protest from Draco for the first time in her young life. Hallelujah, heaven above.

It was impossible to keep breathing steadily, not with Draco’s hand pistoning in and out of her and the knowledge that she’d finally be able to touch him.

She fumbled for a moment with unsteady hands and Draco being a bit further away than she’d like, but eventually had his pants down to the top of his thighs. The image in front of her would leave even the most stone cold person breathless; his bulge was straining in his tight boxer shorts, a wet patch clear for all to see through the grey fabric. He was so, so hot, and he was hers.

Feeling like a cavewoman seeing the magnificence of fire for the first time, Hermione let out a soft noise as she reached towards him. Draco’s mouth continued to lick her body, like he was leaving secret patterns only he could understand on her skin. It was hot and it was a bit weird, the way that she even felt aroused at the way he was leaving hot traces on her hips and her belly button.

“Draco, stop,” she got out. “Want to touch you…”

“Then touch me,” he replied, voice low as he climbed onto the bed and flipped them over so she was on top of him again. They were positioned just like they were a few weeks before, only this time, he didn’t stop her as she lifted herself up to pull his underwear down.

Draco snorted at the way she hopped off his lap for a second to look at him, the student in her ever present. His erection was the biggest thing she’d ever seen, honestly. It was pretty, none of the weird mushroom heads or boomerang shapes or scary veins that Pansy always complained about. She honestly would’ve been surprised if Draco had something seriously wrong with his dick; he didn’t strike her as a man with any physical faults whatsoever.

“It looks nice,” she said honestly, reaching a hand out to tentatively touch it. She had to smile, thinking about how she felt like a kid reaching out to touch a toad and recoiling the moment they felt its bumpy, somewhat slimy skin. But when she stroked her thumb over the head of Draco’s cock, smearing the wetness of his pre-cum, she didn’t let go. Her fingers gingerly explored, sliding down the length of his cock and back up again. He was hard and hot but his skin felt smooth like silk, and she didn’t want to let go. It’d been months of dancing around this, and she was done waiting.

“What do I do?”

“Whatever you want,” he said, voice strained. “Want me to make you feel good, sweetheart?”

“Please,” she repeated for what had to be the millionth time.

He patted his lap after scooting back against the bed frame, and she immediately crawled towards him and tried not to think of every metaphor that could be used for the action.

It was heady, being naked with Draco for the first time, but every thought vanished as he pulled her over his dick so it was sliding over her wet folds. If she thought working herself over him through panties and sweats was pleasurable, she was kidding herself. The feeling of Draco’s hot dick against her core was almost more than she could bear, especially as the thought of how easy it would be for him to slip right in.

He guided her movements as he had the last time, showing her how to roll her hips as she slid against him to generate just the right amount of friction. Frantic little noises slipped from her mouth with each movement as she clung to him, wanting to be as close to him as she could possibly get. His lips were everywhere - her mouth, her cheeks, her neck - and Draco kept murmuring words of praise, telling her how hot she was. How good she was. How perfect she was.

With his dick ramming into her clit and her chest pressed tightly to his and the knowledge that Draco was the one making her feel this good, she came. Hermione felt her orgasm roll through her, and all she could do was bite his shoulder as Draco sped up until he let out a groan of his own to signify his release. Hoping that it may help bring Draco pleasure, because didn’t Pansy say tight is good? She squeezed her core as he glided through the increasing wetness of her folds.

“Shit, sugar,” Draco panted. “You are so sexy.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that, realizing that her toes were curled up from where her shins rested on the bed. Was that why they called it toe curling pleasure?

“Did you feel good?” she asked quietly, rubbing her sweaty cheekbone against his equally sweaty shoulder.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Draco replied, kissing her head with a bit of a breathless laugh. “I felt good.”

Hermione smiled, feeling like the night’s celebration could now be considered a smash-hit success.

“Let me clean us up,” Draco said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead like she was something precious that should be treasured. She liked it, though, and was smiling lazily when he got back. Draco’s growing grin was similarly amused. “You feeling good yourself, sweetheart?”

She nodded, letting out a small whine as he ran the cloth between her legs, but didn’t stop him. Like any woman, she knew the pains of UTIs and infections, and if this annoying, unsexy act kept her pain-free… she’d suffer through it.

“That was nice. It was… fun. And sexy. I just thought it was special, you know?”

Draco, forever a neat freak, took the cloth back into the bathroom before finally crawling back in the bed. She was a little surprised to see how clean the duvet was, but then again, all of the action had happened on top of him. No major spillage to report.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it… it was special for me too,” he replied honestly, pulling Hermione tightly to his side once he was back on the bed. And wasn’t that weird? The way he’d gone from buttoned up to naked in a flash?

“Did you like it?” she asked, voice more tentative than she would’ve hoped.

“I did,” Draco replied. “I love your voice and hearing you call out for me was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Remember when I said I want to lock you up here? Now I think I’m gonna have to…”

She laughed, “If you’re still planning to stay here with me… I won’t complain.”

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart. Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!!! Let me know your thoughts :) All the love <3 
> 
> Come connect with me at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!! Buckle in for a fun one. I know you'll have many thoughts & I can't wait to hear them! Hermione's outfits and the Malfoy's DC home in end notes. Starting to include links after some requests!
> 
> Thank you SO much to my dear friend Elle Morgan-Black for her honesty and edits and staying up late with me to get this story right. And her amazing smut writing because... she is a talent and my smut would be hilariously awful without her.

**December 5, 2018**

There was one opinion mutually agreed upon by every staffer from House to Senate from Republican to Democrat, from the Blue Dog Coalition to the House Freedom Caucus. Holiday parties were the best part of the year.

Organizations tried to make up for a year of incessant calls and emails and impromptu office visits and with endless liquor and high end hors d'oeuvres over the two weeks that Congress was in session in the week of December, and you know what? It worked. Hard liquor and teriyaki chicken kabobs were a balm to the soul for a few glorious days.

Even Hermione wasn’t immune to the pull of holiday parties, not when Remus said that staff could leave early if they wanted to go network. No one missed Tonks’ eye roll when he mentioned networking as the purpose of these events.

Most parties started at 5pm, and Hermione wasn’t going to say no when Lee and Tonks dragged everyone out of the office. Tonight’s big event was the American Medical Association party in the Rayburn Foyer, which was thankfully in their building. The foyer was also one of the hardest event spots to book, due to the airy windows and large space that allowed for a ton of people to pack in and gorge themselves on free food and booze.

For someone who was never a party-person, Hermione felt a bit exhilarated at the chance to let down her hair for a bit and reap the very few benefits that came from working for a mere pittance and zero thanks in Congress.

She even had friends to meet, which was a bit of an odd concept. Despite Pansy’s teasing, Hermione had taken a leap of faith that Monday and attended the staff assistant holiday party at a local bar. Putting faces to name tags was more exciting than she thought it could be as she finally met people who she’d complained and laughed with via email for the past year. So now she boasted a few friends, and she knew they’d all be at this party. There were very few people who wouldn’t attend, including her boss who was slated to show up. Draco also said he’d likely stop in, if only for a photo and handshake.

“Hermione!” a voice called out, and she turned around. It was never surprising that people could tell who she was from the back, not with hair as wild as her own.

“Mandy! Cho!” Hermione beamed.

“We’ll see you in there,” Lee smiled, saluting Hermione as he and Tonks kept walking.

“I’m shocked you actually showed up,” Mandy Brocklehurt, a nose-ring wearing, leather blazer donning staff assistant who currently served as the LGBT Congressional Staff Association’s secretary exclaimed.

Hermione shrugged, “I got my work done and felt like I shouldn’t miss it.”

“It’s been an awful day,” Cho frowned. The woman was a bit older than Hermione, having completed a year of law school before realizing she hated it and coming to the Hill. She’d quickly made the discovery that her new venture was no more pleasant than becoming a lawyer.

“What happened?” Hermione asked.

“Our scheduler forgot to add a meeting with the Secretary of Defense to the schedule, so he literally just walked into the front office when my boss wasn’t even there with his security detail,” Cho groaned.

Hermione and Mandy gasped.

“How does that even happen?” Mandy crowed.

“I think they’re firing our scheduler after that…”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. “I can’t imagine they won’t ask you to take the job.”

Cho shrugged, “It’s just a bit nerve wracking, moving up. Staff assistant duties are like a warm sweater at this point.”

“No, Cho,” Hermione replied, shaking her head as they neared the loud din of the party. “You can do this. We believe in you; and anyways, there’s a scheduler’s listserv that’s full of people who will be more than happy to help you get settled!”

“I guess you’re right,” the pretty woman smiled. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“Who’s ready to drink?” Mandy asked, shaking out her short hair. Two hands shot up immediately.

Despite the packed quarters and the slight chill coming in from the windows, Hermione was having fun. Both Cho and Mandy had a fair number of friends from their tendency to go out to happy hours every night around the Capitol, and Hermione was grateful for the way she slotted into conversation seamlessly. It was nice to have people who helped her feel like she belonged in this world.

It was evident from the increasingly raucous laughter and loud conversations in the room that people were taking advantage of the open bar; she’d even seen her boss walk by, and like a dad, he stopped to introduce himself to her friends and embarrass her a bit. Honestly… she loved that he even cared enough to acknowledge her in public; she knew just how many members would walk by their staffers without ever saying hi.

“Anyone need another drink?” Hermione asked the small group of people she’d been talking to. She felt a bit disappointed when everyone shook their heads, and a flutter of anxiety thinking about whether or not she’d find them again as she fought the crowd to the nearest bar stand.

She immediately felt bad for the poor people working the bars, as the lines didn’t seem to stop growing.

Hermione looked around to see if she recognized anyone in line near her with no luck, and then just focused on not getting cut in line. Senators and Congresspeople continued to cut, but that was honestly to be expected. No one was going to say anything with the telltale shiny pins proudly hanging from a necklace or placed on a jacket.

The queue moved quickly, which wasn’t surprising given that they were handing people glasses with a shot of liquor and a can of soda and miniature wine bottles instead of mixing and pouring at this point. She didn’t blame them.

“Oh! It’s my lucky day,” a high, reedy voice called behind Hermione. She turned around with a deer in headlights look and tried to fix her face.

“Hello, Senator Slughorn,” she smiled. The man looked bulgier than normal and his appearance was only made more jarring by his tie that had Peanuts characters playing with snowballs on it. So. Tacky.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already sidling up to her where she stood four people from the front of the line. Damn it, he didn’t even have staff with him to save her from being alone in conversation with him.

“Of course, sir,” she replied automatically. Why did he even remember who she was?

“Are you enjoying your first holiday season? Mine wouldn’t be complete without making the long trek over from the Senate for this party…”

“Oh?” she asked politely. Or maybe it wasn’t polite; she just didn’t want to talk to him, not when he was still panting from the walk over from the Senate. Honestly, it was just a walk to the train, then a walk from the train to the Rayburn Foyer. It wasn’t even that far!

“Absolutely,” he nodded, looking around for a moment with watery eyes. “There’s a certain candy they serve that I just can’t get enough of! Take a look at this?”

She didn’t know what to expect when he slowly opened his jacket, but ziploc bags filled with candy was not it.

“Crystallized pineapple! I bring my own bags so I can take it home… no one makes it quite like this catering company.”

God have mercy on her soul. Who was this candy-thieving monster?

“Of course, sir.”

Hermione entertained the man’s babbling about meeting with the Secretary of Agriculture earlier that day, truly wishing someone would save her.

“There we are!” the man smiled after putting down his cup and convincing the bartender to refill it with far more liquor than a single shot. “Down the hatch, then. Cheers, Miss Granger.”

Hermione took a sip of her white wine, hoping that the man would pass out or find someone more worthy of his time than her. God knows there were enough flashy people there to entertain him.

They moved to the side of the makeshift bar, and Hermione was reaching a point of feeling far too uncomfortable.

He knew who she worked for… and she also knew the man would absolutely tell James that she was being rude if she ditched him. Horace Slughorn was notoriously petty.

“Now, will your schedule change in the new year? Perhaps enough to join my little dinner group?”

Hermione let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Unfortunately not, sir. My church group is still on Wednesdays.”

The man placed a sweaty hand on her forearm. She was in a dress with three-quarter-length sleeves, so his fingers were gripping her skin. Her stomach rolled, and she was close to pulling a Cinderella and running out of the room. It was better to lose a shoe than the contents of her stomach.

He wasn’t holding on tight enough to hurt, but enough for her to realize he knew what he was doing. It was literally the example that they gave in the Office of Congressional Workplace Rights’ training, and she’d give the same answer she did during class in small group discussion if asked. This was wrong! It didn’t have to be sexual to be an abuse of power; his actions were making her uncomfortable and also were unwanted.

And worst of all, was how everyone just walked by like nothing was amiss. Did the cat-plunged-in-water look of worry on her face really make her appear like Horace Slughorn’s young girlfriend? Didn’t everyone know he was married?

“Excuse me, Horace. It’s hardly appropriate to be leering over a young woman in such a public setting?”

Hermione’s knees almost gave out.

“Draco, my boy!” the man replied, ignoring Draco’s question. It felt like an SNL skit. He was still holding onto Hermione.

“I’m going to ask you to remove your hand,” Draco said through gritted teeth. The blond was looming over the much shorter, squat man, and Hermione wanted to cry. He was so hot, but he was so, so mad right now. In public. On her behalf.

The moment that Hermione’s arm was free of the sweaty man’s, Draco placed a most welcome hand on her back and guided her out of the room. Where everyone could watch.

He didn’t speak, even as Slughorn spluttered behind them. Without looking back, Hermione could tell that he was clearly more offended that they left than repentant over very publicly breaking every norm of how an older senator should interact with a much younger woman.

The crowd mostly cleared for a stalking Draco, outside of a few drunkards, and Hermione kept her eyes down to make sure she didn’t trip. That was the last thing she needed when Draco was walking this fast with his long legs.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and angry as they walked up the stairs from the foyer and entered a mostly empty hallway. His hand was burning through her dress, and he didn’t seem keen on removing it.

“I’m fine,” she replied, voice a bit shaky from the whiplash she just experienced.

“I’m parked in the garage,” he informed her.

For those wondering, his hand was still on her back. They’d now passed two Congressmen and seven random people. But no one was counting.

They were quiet as they made their way down the elevator to the Rayburn parking garage, where Draco was parked close by.

Draco’s jaw was tight enough she thought he’d break his teeth in half, and Hermione didn’t protest as he strapped her seatbelt in.

Hermione hated that her mind was comparing this to Edward Cullen saving Bella from the weird motorcycle gang in Port Angeles, but… that’s where it immediately went.

She wondered if this was a good time to tell Draco that she didn’t have her jacket. Thankfully, she’d brought her Goyard, not that Draco even seemed to notice.

“Are you okay to drive?” she asked tentatively.

Draco let out a breath. “I’m fine. I didn’t drink.”

“That’s not why I’m asking, Draco.”

“I’m fine. Do you need dinner?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, thinking of something that he’d like quickly. “Thai?”

“Thai,” he agreed.

She called over to their local place on Pennsylvania Avenue, knowing they’d have the order ready by the time they were there.

“I almost killed him,” Draco offered.

“What if he fought back? He’s… rotund.” Hermione let out a snort-giggle hybrid at her own observation.

Draco looked amused for the first time since he walked up like a vengeful Congressman superhero from a movie that she never knew she needed to exist.

“I’d still kill him. He has no stamina, he’s all weight.”

“He was panting all over me while talking about how hard it was to get here from the Senate,” she frowned at the expression on Draco’s face. That was clearly the wrong thing to say. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That’s the problem… that’s exactly the problem,” Draco muttered. He pulled up outside of the restaurant, sliding into a spot reserved for buses. Hermione would normally call him on it, but not today. He handed over his wallet, and she just hopped out of the car.

By the time she’d gotten back, he looked a little more composed.

“They threw in spring rolls,” Hermione smiled. “She asked how my handsome man was doing.”

Draco shook his head, smiling. “I mean… if my face gets us spring rolls, I’m not going to turn them down.”

“Thank you for your service.”

Hermione took things into her own hands once they got inside.

“Let’s go put on pajamas,” she directed, dropping the food and her bag onto his kitchen counter counter. She took his hand and Draco followed her upstairs without a snarky remark, which showed just how drained he was. She could handle this.

By the time they were sitting on the couch with their food in their laps and Phyllis and Bob Vance’s wedding on TV, Draco was no longer clenching his fists or letting out ridiculous little growling noises.

But Hermione sat next to him, feeling the full weight of what’d happened.

Draco stormed in and pulled her away from a disgusting old creep.

Draco put his reputation at risk when he saw that she was uncomfortable. He put his reputation at risk to save hers from the mutters that would have started about a drunk young girl hitting on a married senator if he didn’t intervene when he did.

Draco was now risking the wrath of blowing up his father’s perfect little plan for her benefit.

Everything that he did was for her sake.

And feeling far too much like Pansy, she realized that there was only one proper way to thank him.

So once they were done eating, she took a deep breath and dropped off the couch onto her knees as gracefully as one could with a glass table nearby.

“Sweetheart?” Draco asked, confused.

“I’m… can I?” she said, knowing that he’d understood what she meant even. If her blushing cheeks weren’t enough, her fingers trailed up his joggers towards the elastic waistband that sat snug on his hips. He knew.

“Sweetheart…” he repeated, though his voice was now full of restraint and hunger and void of confusion. She could work with that.

“Show me how?” she asked again.

“Fuck,” Draco growled, not even apologizing for cussing. “Careful, sugar…”

Hermione started to pull his joggers off, and Draco was kind enough to lift himself off the couch.

Seeing his dick from this angle, head on, quite literally, brought up a lot of emotions. Fear and arousal top of the list.

Fear of failure was always knocking at the front door of Hermione’s mind, and she knew that giving head was a test she didn’t want to fail. If Draco was guiding her, there was less chance of doing that. And it was hot when he showed her what to do… the combination of his experience and his willingness to use that voice and restrain himself for her benefit did something to her.

“Touch me, Hermione,” Draco instructed, hands clenched in the cushion of the couch. “Your soft little hands always feel so good… I think about them at the worst of times.”

She stroked the length of his cock with her hand, feeling braver as she repeated the motion that was becoming more and more familiar to her. His body responded in kind, and she was fascinated at how quickly he grew even harder at her touch. She used her thumb to smear precum over the head of his cock before taking a deep breath. She could do this, she told herself. She wanted to do this for him, and not just because he’d quite literally been her knight in shining armor tonight.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to…”

“I want to.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even stopped to consider them.

Her eyes met his, and she had to squeeze her thighs together at the look he gave her.

“I, um, I just don’t want to do it wrong,” she admitted.

His hand caressed her cheek and slid into her hair, his touch warm and soothing.

“As long as you don’t use your teeth, it’s kind of hard to do it wrong,” he admitted.

“You promise?”

His fingers momentarily tightened in her hair as he gazed at her, a muttered curse slipping from his lips.

“You have no idea just how much I’ve thought about doing this with you.”

His admission that he’d fantasized about this very thing gave her the confidence to lean in and take a tentative lick and then another once she realized that this wasn’t too scary.

She looked up at him, to gauge his reaction, and he was looking at her as if she was the most wonderful creature he’d ever seen. His desire for her made her feel sexy and more confident as she stroked him again.

“When you thought about this, was I on my knees?” she whispered.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he muttered, tipping his head back. “Yes sugar, always on your knees. Just like this. Such a good girl.”

Something about his words thrilled her, and she knew she wanted to fulfill at least one of his apparent many fantasies about her. She leaned in less tentatively this time and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock.

“Yes, just like that. Use your mouth, take me in your mouth,” he rasped as he gathered her abundant curls in his hands, pulling her hair back from her face.

Everything she’d read said to breathe through your nose when going down on a man, but that was much harder to do than she thought it would be. His erect penis felt huge in her hands and downright enormous in her mouth. She slid her mouth down as far she could without gagging, but nowhere near far enough to take all of him. This was… awkward, she had to admit to herself. It was tough to find the right rhythm and still manage to breathe and avoid gagging and keep her lips covering her teeth so she didn’t accidentally scrape him.

“Yes, that’s it. Your mouth is so hot. You feel so good, sugar,” Draco panted, his beautiful grey eyes searing into her own as she looked up at him. Looking up at him like this, as she bobbed her head up and down on his dick should have felt weird, but in that moment, everything felt right.

“Put your hand here, around the base,” he instructed, drawing her hand from his thigh to wrap around his cock again. Her saliva had dripped down the shaft, and she realized as he briefly guided her hand in time with the movement of her mouth that she could cover all of him this way.

“Yes, just like that,” he encouraged as she moved at a faster pace.

His hips began to rock with the bobbing of her head, and his hand tightened in her hair.

“Let me?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, a weird stilted motion given that she had a large cock in her mouth. Draco started to set a much faster tempo, leaving Hermione feeling like she’d been way off in terms of what he was looking for. Before she could think too much on it, Draco hit the back of her throat, and she didn’t gag. Was this… not having a gag reflex?

“Perfect girl,” Draco crooned, nearly on the edge of the couch as he moved his hips back and forth.

The moment had her feeling emotional for some reason she couldn’t pinpoint, and she took her hand that was resting on her lap and moved it to wrest Draco’s from where it was squeezing the couch.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” the blond groaned after a while, pulling back from her mouth. Voracious reader that she was, Hermione knew that a man’s cum wasn’t exactly something known for its great taste. She hoped Draco’s was salty and not sour or rotten tasting. Maybe this would be his only physical fault? She felt relieved as he pulled back, not sure she was quite ready to have him come in her mouth, especially if it tasted awful. She didn’t stop him as he pulled back, only moving to climb on the couch and grip his now wet dick into her own hands.

“Hermione,” Draco whispered against her lips, their hands moving together over his cock. Pansy always said that handjobs were a chump’s choice, but Draco seemed to be enjoying it well enough by the noises he was making.

His cum spilled between her fingers as he groaned only moments later, tongue flicking against her own.

“So good, Hermione,” Draco praised, kissing her one last time and making her feel like this was far from a failed first attempt. The man was willing to taste himself in order to kiss her; it felt like a win.

“Thank you,” she replied earnestly, drawing a laugh from Draco. She blushed.

“I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart. Your love of praise is just extremely endearing.”

She shrugged, blushing further. She’d just had Draco Malfoy’s penis in her mouth, and now his cum was splattered over her fingers, and she felt proud and awkward all at the same time. She looked down at her hand and the pearly essence, suddenly curious. She brought one finger to her mouth and took a tentative lick. It was… weird. Salty. But not horrifically disgusting. Interesting, she thought. She definitely wasn’t prepared to swallow all of it, but at least now she knew what to expect.

She looked up at Draco then who was staring at her with a look of wonder.

“You’re gonna kill me, sugar,” he said with a breathless sigh, “And I love it.”

There was no reply that showed how she felt more clearly than another kiss.

xxxxxx

**December 6, 2018**

Hermione woke up from her dreamless sleep to the loud sound of cursing.

“What?” she croaked.

It was still dark out, what the hell was going on?

“Shit,” Draco groaned.

“Draco?” she asked before realizing she’d spent the night. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit,” he repeated.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, hoping to wake up a bit. Was someone dead? Draco never cussed like this in front of her.

“You’re scaring me.”

He sighed, face lit up by his phone as he scrolled furiously through some webpage.

“Politico wrote about my altercation with Slughorn in Playbook this morning.”

“What?” she asked. If Draco was supposed to work out at 7am, that meant it was like 6:15, which was far too early for this much thought.

Draco was far more patient with her early morning confusion than she would’ve been had roles been reversed..

“Politico Playbook’s spotted section… ‘Last night, a very Grinch-like Congressman Draco Malfoy spotted by multiple readers in a tense interaction with Senator Horace Slughorn over a young woman last night at the American Medical Association’s holiday party in Rayburn Office Building. According to those present, the interaction ended with Malfoy guiding the woman out of the party, a hand splayed across her back. We ask any readers with more information to reach out to us at our tip line here.’”

Well. Shit was right.

“Are there photos?” she asked, brain slowly turning on.

“No, thank God. With the way my phone’s blown up in the 20 minutes since Playbook came out this morning, though, I don’t think that’s going to matter.”

“Sounds more like Gossip Girl than Politico, honestly,” Hermione muttered. “It’s going to be fine, okay? No one knows who I am, and it sounds like they have no details. I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re back from the gym.”

“I should go, you’re right... I’ll be back at eight. First… are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled. “Just a bit sad I couldn’t enjoy my first holiday party on the Hill. I’m just grateful you were there.”

“Blaise was mad,” Draco admitted, and if the lights were on Hermione would’ve seen his red cheeks. “I saw you and couldn’t stop watching. So when Slughorn touched you… I couldn’t help myself.”

“My hero,” Hermione yawned.

“Go back to bed, baby,” Draco laughed.

Hermione did just that, knowing that Draco woke up far earlier than he needed to in order to ‘start his day off right’ before leaving for Orangetheory. Her alarm would wake her up when she needed to.

When that time came, she also woke up to twelve texts from Pansy, most of them question marks and expletives.

**Hermione: Can you bring me a dress and tights over to Draco’s please?**  
**Pansy: WHY**  
**Hermione: So I can go to work in something different than I wore yesterday?**  
**Pansy: You know that’s not what I’m asking.**  
**Hermione: I’ll tell you when you get here.**  
**Pansy: Bitch.**  
**Hermione: I’m making breakfast.**

Pansy, to her credit, arrived before Hermione had even gotten potatoes and onions into the skillet. She was making a hearty breakfast, but they deserved it this morning.

“What is going on?” Pansy asked, holding her phone in Hermione’s face. “What did Sluggy do?”

Hermione sighed. “He caught up with me in line at the bar at the American Medical Association party… he kept touching me and opened up his pockets to show me the crystallized pineapple he stole from the food table. It was like… Napoleon Dynamite with tater tots, but he brought Ziploc bags from home.”

“Enough with the upsetting details!” Pansy shrieked. “That’s not what I’m asking about.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “It’s too early for that, Pansy. He grabbed my arm and every time I moved it he just clenched harder... Then Draco came over and told him to let me go.”

Pansy’s smirk grew, clearly loving the inside scoop. “Did Draco punch him?”

“Pansy. No.”

“All I’m saying is that would’ve been warranted given the circumstances. Then what?”

“Then Draco made a snippy remark and guided me out of the Rayburn Foyer and we got in his car.”

“That’s really hot.”

Hermione held a finger up, listening to make sure Draco wasn’t walking inside early before she spoke next.

“I know he was really mad, but honestly, all I could think was that it felt like the scene where Edward rolled up in his car to save Bella in the first book. It was hot. He was so, so mad.”

“Draco’s hotter than Robert Pattinson and you aren’t a plain, emotionally stunted robot. Did you… do it?”

Hermione blushed, “No, but we tried something new.”

“Head?” she asked. Hermione nodded, glad her back was to Pansy as she whisked eggs and milk together. “On you or him?”

“Him!” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “It felt right.”

“Did he like it?”

Draco opened the door at that very moment. Saved by the bell. But, for the record… he loved it.

“Pansy’s here!” Hermione shouted, not wanting Draco to say or do anything he’d regret while walking in.

He sauntered into the room, still covered in sweat, yet fine as hell in his tight Lululemon shirt and athletic shorts.

“Good workout?” she asked with a smile.

He nodded, “I needed it. Good morning, Pansy.”

“Mr. M,” Pansy replied in acknowledgement. “Nice mention in Playbook, looking forward to a quiet day.”

Draco cracked a smile at that, “That’s why I have you as my gatekeeper, hm?”

“I won’t let you down,” she saluted halfheartedly. “I’m leaving. Everything’s in a garment bag on the counter, sis.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled gratefully. “You don’t want breakfast?”

“No,” Pansy shook her head. “I figure I should get an early start on the hellscape that’s become my day, thanks to you.”

“We love you!” Hermione shouted, getting only a scoff in reply as Pansy walked out of the house.

They ate quickly, and Hermione followed Draco upstairs with the garment bag Pansy had put together. Leave it to her not to stuff it all in a reusable bag the way Hermione certainly would have.

“Need a shower?” Draco asked.

Hermione snorted, “I took a shower already.”

He frowned, “It was worth a try.”

“Leave the door open and I’ll keep an eye on you,” she giggled.

“A flooded house is the last thing I need today,” Draco sighed, getting undressed and hopping in the warm water.

Hermione was overjoyed, but not surprised, that Pansy had chosen her new green Ted Baker dress. It was gorgeous and comfortable and seasonally appropriate, which made her love it even more. She’d tried it on when shopping with Pansy at Nordstrom, and put it back down after seeing the price tag. Pansy had bought it for her anyways and claimed it was part of Hermione’s Christmas gift, so she couldn’t even complain.

“What do we need to do?” Hermione asked as she started putting her foundation on.

“Slughorn is a coward. He isn’t going to say anything to reporters or anyone else,” Draco replied from the shower.

“Okay? So… what does that mean? We’re fine?” She had a lot of questions that Draco didn’t seem keen to answer.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. No one knows who I was walking out, and even if they do, they saw that I was extricating you from an uncomfortable situation.”

She waited to put her mascara on until he was done speaking, not wanting to poke herself in the eye out of shock.

“What about you, then? Will you be in trouble?”

“Hermione,” Draco’s voice was on just the right side of unpatronizing, but it was a close thing. She stiffened, ready to snap at him if he talked down to her. “I’m not in trouble. This is the Spotted section of Politico Playbook, which only people in our universe read; it could’ve been so much worse. It’s just another thing to worry about today.”

“I’m sorry, Draco. This sucks.”

He snorted at her bluntness. “That’s one way to put it. We’ll be fine.”

Hermione finished doing her mascara before asking the question on her mind. “Will your father know?”

“Yes, but lucky for us he hates Slughorn and will excoriate him for any and every reason. I don’t think he’ll be asked about this, though, not when we still need to pass the defense bill out of both chambers.”

“Thank God. Just… text me that you’re fine throughout the day? I feel like you’d run yourself into the ground before asking for help.”

“I won’t need help.”

“That’s not what I was asking, Draco.”

He shut the shower off, climbing out and grabbing his towel before he gave Hermione a soft look.

“I’ll update you on whether or not I’m alive.”

“Good,” she smiled.

“You look gorgeous, sugar. Is this new?”

She nodded, “An early Christmas gift from Pansy.”

“Well Pansy has great taste and deserves the very generous end-of-year bonus I’m telling her about today.”

“She’s going to love that,” Hermione smiled, leaving off that Pansy had been complaining since Hermione received her bonus and raise. She’d thrown a pint of ice cream in Hermione’s face after the Democrat suggested that maybe she should rethink her support for the party of fiscal conservatism and slashing government spending if she wanted a bonus.

“I figured she would. It’s the least I can do for my staff with all the work they do.”

“You’re a good boss,” she smiled, walking up to kiss him now that he had his ridiculously tight underwear on. She’d asked him about them, and received an eye roll and snarky question over whether or not she wanted to see underwear lines through his pants. When she’d answered no, he told her that she could thank these boxer shorts for the lack of lines. Dating had her learning so much more than she ever wanted to know about the male form.

She stood on her tippy toes to kiss him, smiling as Draco squeezed her and picked her up off the ground.

“I’ll see you tonight, sugar.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Don’t forget to text me!”

“You act like you’re not the one who goes five hours without replying.”

“I sit at the front desk, Draco! What do you expect? Me to respond to your complaints about Moody’s glass eye turning towards you in hearings where anyone could see?”

“I need someone to commiserate with me without judgement.”

“I am judging you, Draco! He lost his eye in the war.”

“He’s still a real piece of work.”

“You’re making fun of his eye, not his personality. That’s the difference.”

Draco groaned. “Just let me have my fun during these hearings so I don’t fall asleep like Binns, okay?”

“Whatever you need to do,” she sighed, sounding far more aggrieved than she felt.

“Pansy’s drama is rubbing off on you.”

“Take it back!”

“Nope,” the blond replied, popping the P in his mouth.

“Goodbye, Draco,” Hermione smiled, turning to gather her makeup back in the three-year-old Ipsy bag she carried it around in and left it on the counter.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

xxx

The day was normal, much to Hermione’s relief. Unfortunately, normal for the holiday season meant signing for tons of Christmas packages for the Congressman, entertaining ten-minute conversations with all of the lovely Capitol mail people who dropped them off, and trying to interview spring interns while pacing the hallway and taking notes at the same time.

“Hey girl,” Tonks greeted, making Hermione jump a bit in her seat. “You’re always so tense, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”

Hermione laughed lightly, “I can’t help it, I get into the zone when I’m flying through emails.”

“Wanna grab coffee? I didn’t get home until late last night, and ended up going out to a few bars after the AMA party. I think I’ll die without more caffeine.”

Unable to quench her curiosity as to why Tonks wanted to grab coffee, she nodded. “Can you grab Jalen to sit up front while I finish up this email? Thanks.”

Tonks babbled for a bit about her upcoming holiday plans on their walk over to the Longworth Dunkin Donuts, and Hermione felt a bit disappointed to realize that the other girl probably just wanted someone to talk to. Penelope was a bit straight-laced and didn’t spend much time with their staff outside of office hours, and Dorcas was off at a hearing with the Congressman. Hermione was the only option.

“So… I don’t really know how to say this tactfully, but I saw what happened last night,” Tonks said once they’d sat down at a two-person table.

Hermione played the fool well, something she’d never done before in her life. “What?”

“With Slughorn and Malfoy.”

She bit down her retort at the lack of respect in the way Tonks addressed her partner.

“Oh… that was uncomfortable,” she replied, shrugging. “He has had a weird interest in me for a while.”

“Malfoy or Slughorn?”

Shit. She set herself up for that one.

“Senator Slughorn. He has this… dinner group he wants me to join, he’s brought it up when he’s come to meet with the Congressman over their companion bills.”

Tonks’ face twisted up in disgust. “Ew. I bet he has a dungeon in his house, no shit.”

Hermione shrugged.

“But anyways, I saw the way Malfoy came in like a pissed off boyfriend.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Tonks.”

“I’m no spring chicken, Hermione. I know a look of jealousy when I see one, especially on a human robot like Malfoy.”

How did she get out of this? Was there a fire alarm around here she could pull?

Tonks spoke again, “I know that I’m never the serious one, but I mean it… I hope you know what you’re doing. And I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, Tonks. Call me naive, but I really don’t know what you think happened… Senator Slughorn made me uncomfortable, and Congressman Malfoy clearly realized it while walking by. I’m grateful he intervened when I couldn’t do anything without looking rude,” Hermione shrugged, reverting to the sweet girl persona that she masqueraded as in professional settings. It was much easier to be known as kind and hardworking than bossy and abrupt, so… she tried her best to do just that.

Tonks smiled, “Whatever you say, Hermione! Want to grab onion rings before the cafe closes?”

Hermione took the olive branch for what it was, making a mental note that worries were now coming from inside her office. She didn’t expect the walls to close in so quickly, honestly, which showed just how optimistic her thinking had been.

She texted Draco when she was back at her desk, knowing that Remus, Frank and James were gone for the next hour at a holiday party over in the main Capitol building. No one would judge her if she texted in the first place, realistically, but she just felt better doing it when office leadership wasn’t there.

**Hermione: Alive?**  
**Draco: Thriving. Pansy somehow talked me into allowing her to buy champagne and cake for the office after I shared with her that everyone got a bonus… so we’re having a bit of an afternoon.**  
**Hermione: Is she drunk?**  
**Draco: Respectfully... I can never tell. Theo is making cow eyes at her. Is this something I should know about? How did I miss this?**  
**Hermione: Nope.**  
**Draco: I blame you for getting me more involved than I ever wanted to be with my staff.**  
**Hermione: Think about it this way… they’ll never have anything but cultishly good things to say about you. If anything, I should be thanked.**  
**Draco: I’ll thank you tonight, sweetheart.**  
**Hermione: Some of us are still working. Goodbye!**  
**Draco: Save me.**

Draco was in far too good of a mood to bring up the weird, slightly threatening conversation with Tonks, so she left it until later. By the grace of God or maybe just the man’s cowardice, Slughorn didn’t try to make amends by phone or stopping by. James didn’t even bring up that he got a call from the senator which suited Hermione well. Cowards stay cowards.

xxxx

**December 8, 2018**

Hermione was hard pressed to stop herself from launching herself at a dapper, tuxedo-wearing Draco, but knowing how much he’d complain if it got wrinkled, she just pressed a kiss to his lips instead.

“You are hot,” she got out between kisses.

“And you are stunning. Mother will love that dress,” Draco promised, smoothing a hand down Hermione’s back until he was squeezing her bum.

“Not if you wrinkle it!” Hermione couldn’t even reprimand him properly with the smile that was on her face.

Hermione had been shocked after the woman had called Draco the night before to see if she’d come over for dinner. Draco had scoffed at his mother’s excuse about skipping the annual White House Christmas party due to concerns of the flu, but knew how much it meant to Hermione to have his parents like her. So here she was, dressed up in a little white dress that Draco had bought her during a last minute shopping trip, heading over to the Malfoys. She was close to vomiting.

“Everything will go well… mother is far more open without father around. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Hermione smiled, “Have fun, love… please ignore Slughorn, okay?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You act like I’m going to give him the people’s elbow in the White House.”

“I don’t even know what that is, but don’t do it.”

Draco pressed a kiss to her nose. “Of course I won’t, sugar. My methods of revenge are far more subdued.”

His phone dinged and he looked down.

“That’s your ride. Have fun with mother.”

Hermione smiled, trying to look a bit more composed than she felt. “You too.”

Unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she hopped in the Black Escalade that Draco had pick her up, Hermione focused on breathing. Draco had told her that she could bring a bottle of wine, but not dessert since Narcissa would take that as an insult… whatever that meant.

The drive all the way up to Kalorama was made even longer by Friday evening traffic, and Hermione did her best to engage her driver in conversation so that anxiety wouldn’t take the wheel.

Once they arrived, she wasn’t surprised to see that the Malfoy’s DC home was one of the prettiest buildings she’d ever seen in her life.

Knocking on the front door, a resplendent and seasonally dressed Narcissa Malfoy opened the door. She was in a silky green cocktail dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the White House Christmas party; Hermione felt slightly underdressed, but then again… that was something she’d have to get used to with this Family.

“Hermione, dear. Welcome!” she smiled, pulling her into a dainty hug with air kisses on both cheeks. Well… this was certainly a different tune than the first time they’d met.

“Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione smiled. There was a weight off her shoulders knowing that Lucius wasn’t here; he really was a dark cloud over their heads. “Wow, your home is just gorgeous!”

And she wasn’t flattering the woman, the light wood floors and white molding were absolutely stunning. Even at night, she could tell just how airy and beautiful the home was. It had to have cost millions of dollars even if they’d bought it years ago.

“Thanks, dear,” Narcissa smiled, clearly having accepted the same compliment hundreds of times in the past. “It was a labor of love, certainly, but it gave me something to do while Lucius was working and I was still making friends here in Washington.”

“It’s truly a beautiful home,” she complimented. Could home be unoffensively used to describe a 7,500 square foot space? Mansion? Manor? Castle?

Narcissa nodded, clearly agreeing. “I just fell in love with it. I’ll give you the tour after dinner and you’ll see how charming and uncitylike it is.”

Was uncitylike a feeling a house could really give off? Hermione had so much to learn from the rich southern charm the Malfoys oozed.

Hermione followed Narcissa into the kitchen, which was decorated in the same cream, white, and dark brown scheme as the foyer. She had major doubts that she could ever decorate a home as tastefully as this one, and was suddenly grateful that Draco’s homes were already so well put together. She knew her talents, and interior decorating was not one of them.

“It really is lovely, I can see why you chose it,” Hermione replied, not sure how to get the conversation from surface level to something that’d allow her to impress Draco’s mother.

“Now, I just need to finish the scallops then we’ll be ready to eat… Draco told me you enjoyed seafood. Lucius can’t stand anything other than shrimp, so I was overjoyed to have someone to indulge with me.”

Yes! This was the in she was looking for, no matter how ridiculous it was.

“I love seafood, I think I’d have my Seattleite card revoked if I didn’t.”

“Oh? Did you enjoy growing up in Seattle?” Narcissa tied an apron over her dark green dress, something that really didn’t surprise Hermione.

“I did,” she nodded. “Growing up in a large city allowed me to experience much more than other children my age, and I loved being able to meet people from all walks of life before I went off to college.”

Hermione hedged her answer a bit, not wanting to sound like a preachy liberal to the woman but also not completely erase her personality. She figured she’d be walking a tightrope with Draco’s family for a long while before she felt she could be ‘herself.’

“I enjoyed the same about Charlotte. Even more so now that the city’s population has doubled since I was your age. It’s nice, being able to experience the different festivals and events that take place through Lucius’ job.”

“What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”

“A whole host of activities, really… I enjoy entertaining. My mother is a fantastic cook, and she has held a weekly soup kitchen at a local elementary school gymnasium since before I was born. She refuses outside help, and since my sisters aren’t living in Charlotte, I’ve taken a larger role as she’s gotten older and more people need food assistance. Oh, and I host a Bible study for wives of politicians in DC… let’s say I just keep myself busy.”

“That’s lovely! You have two sisters, I believe?”

“I do,” Narcissa turned to smile at Hermione from where she was focused on not overcooking the scallops. “Bellatrix is three years older than me, and Andromeda is two years older.”

“Wow, you three are so close! I always wished that I had siblings.”

“Life was never boring, that’s for certain,” the woman’s laugh was almost as beautiful as she was. Hermione tried not to mentally compare herself to Draco’s gorgeous mother. “Thankfully Bella and her husband live in DC, so I get to see her often.”

“That’s lovely. Where does Andromeda live?”

Narcissa didn’t turn around at that. Interesting. “She committed the most egregious of sins - she moved down to Charleston.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was moving to South Carolina really that grave of a sin? Was that a joke, and was she meant to laugh? She opted for launching into another question instead, still worried she’d made an error with Draco’s mother.

“Are you able to visit her often?” Hermione really did feel like an interrogator, but how was she supposed to get into conversation when the woman was giving her matter of fact answers? What did she have in common with Narcissa Malfoy to even interject?

“Lucius’ campaign schedule kept me far too busy to visit the past few years, but she returns home to visit our parents often. If you’d like to grab the wine that’s chilling in the fridge, we can move into the dining room. I gave my housekeeping staff the night off so we’ll have to set up, but I figured it would be nice for us to get to know each other privately.”

Um. Housekeeping staff?

“Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. I’m glad we can spend time together.”

“Draco’s so protective, just like his father…” Narcissa’s smile was fond as she plated what she’d shared was parmesan risotto, winter greens and brown butter scallops onto both plates. To no one’s surprise, it looked perfect. “I’m certain he warned you about me?”

Hermione shook her head, “He’s never had anything but good things to say about you, ma’am.”

“So polite,” Narcissa shook her head. “Malfoy men are a different breed. You’ll come to find out that many of Draco’s qualities are ones that he’s inherited from his father and grandfather. Pardon my nosiness, but I’m certain he showed the Malfoy protectiveness at a party this week?”

Hermione blushed.

Narcissa laughed, “I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that we are no fan of Horace Slughorn in this family. Truly, I’m just happy that Draco was there to remove his greasy paws from you.”

“I can’t say that I’m his biggest fan, either, not that we wanted the altercation to appear in Playbook. But I’m sure you’re grateful to have such a tight knit family.”

“Malfoy men will always ensure that lecherous men are properly dealt with, dear. Don’t you worry about that. But yes, absolutely. Having both my parents and Lucius’ nearby was a godsend when the children were little.”

Narcissa led Hermione into a meticulously well-set dining room that already had two table settings sans plates near the head of the table.

“Oh, would you like a salad, dear? I find myself getting so sick of overeating just to look polite at multi-course meals. I’ve started to cook smaller meals for Luc and I on the nights we’re home. I can whip up a quick caesar, though, if you’d like.”

Hermione laughed at that very human confession. “No, I’m fine, thank you. This looks excellent, and I have to agree… one course is more than enough in most instances.”

Narcissa smiled approvingly as she put down the plates and opened the wine that Hermione had taken out of the fridge, and Hermione wondered if they’d ever drink the wine that Draco had helped her pick out.

“Shall I pray?”

Hermione bowed her head, praying her own silent prayer. Please, God… let me leave this dinner with Narcissa’s approval. Or even the permission to call her Narcissa instead of ma’am or Mrs. Malfoy. Any little victory would be enough to give her the confidence that she and Draco could do this.

There was no faking Hermione’s reaction to her first bite. The risotto was perfectly cooked, which Hermione knew to be extremely difficult, and the scallops were as delectable as they looked on the plate. Did the woman have any flaws?

“This is delicious,” Hermione complimented after thoroughly chewing and swallowing. “I’m normally nervous when someone says they’re making risotto, but yours is impeccable.”

Narcissa laughed, “Oh, dear, you have no idea how many awful dinners you’ll have to suffer through if you and my son stay together.”

“I’m sure,” she nodded. Was that a threat or just a casual statement?

There were only a few seconds of pause for them to eat before Narcissa cut to the chase. Hermione respected it, honestly.

“Hermione, I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that I wanted to speak privately regarding Draco. My son… he’s a good man. He was always the boy who stood up for those who were being bullied and served as team captain on sports teams. And now, he’s a man who is highly-regarded in the highest echelons of our nation’s government. We always had high hopes for our son, and he’s exceeding them. That’s why we’re so concerned by your relationship… what it could mean for his hard work and reputation.”

Narcissa took a sip of wine. Hermione was surprised she didn’t chug half the glass in one go with the concern lacing her tone.

She did find it rather cute that Draco’s mom felt like she needed to sell him to her even as she was warning Hermione off of him. Whether or not Draco was a team captain on varsity soccer many moons ago… Hermione was still certain of his character. Nothing Narcissa provided would be new information on that front, no matter how much more it endeared her to him.

“Pardon me for being so direct, Hermione, but I fear that we’ll continue to dance around like a group of politicians if I don’t handle this conversation myself without the boys around. What are your intentions with Draco?”

“I appreciate your bluntness, Mrs. Malfoy. I’d rather have a difficult conversation than no conversation at all. Draco was not someone I ever expected to meet, let alone get into a serious relationship with. We both knew that the odds were against us simply based on our careers… Draco was hesitant, knowing that I’m at the start of mine and the unfortunate stigma that often follows the woman when relationships do go awry. But there was an undeniable connection from the start… We talk more than any other couple I’ve ever met, and that’s allowed us to have clarity at every point of uncertainty, even if it means staying up late to duke it out and resolve our problems.”

“I applaud your maturity, Hermione, but sometimes our desires aren’t enough. Being married to Lucius… it isn’t easy. Only a small group of men and women in America have been the spouse of a high-profile political leader, and I don’t want you to have any illusions about what’s to come. Malfoys do not get divorced and Malfoys do not live apart from the rest of our family.”

Well. That made everything crystal clear.

“I don’t intend to leave Draco, Mrs. Malfoy. And I’m certain that he would have told me if there were any uncertainties on his end at this point in his relationship. He understands your expectations of him. I ask again… please trust your son’s judgment. He would not jeopardize a relationship with you and Senator Malfoy over someone he wasn’t certain about, and I think we both know that.”

Narcissa sighed, “Oh, Hermione… I tell you this because I care. You are a sweet girl, but you remind me of someone who was sweet and uncertain and paid the price for it.”

Hermione remained quiet.

“My sister Andromeda, she met a man in Washington when she was your age and made all the wrong choices. I don’t want to see you grapple with the same decisions she made.”

“I can’t say I know what you’re speaking of, Mrs. Malfoy, but I promise that I am confident in how I feel about Draco. And I’m certain he feels the same. I would be lying if I said that we could prepare ourselves for how the public is going to react, but we will weather whatever comes together.”

Narcissa’s smile was surprisingly watery, and she reached a hand out to grasp Hermione’s own.

“What about your goals? You’re a smart, beautiful young woman… so very young,” she murmured.

“I can’t say I’m one hundred percent certain, honestly. There are many domestic issues that I’m passionate about… access to education, student loans, criminal justice being top of the list. But I know that the Hill is the best way to hone my interests and turn them into a career.”

“You do understand that your current position will almost certainly be terminated when the public finds out, don’t you? You are more than just a person; you’re someone whose life and actions are directly tied to the opinion of James Potter. The moment staff start to be the story is when elected officials have to make decisions for themselves, no matter how tough they are.”

Ouch.

She took a deep breath, trying not to lose it on Narcissa.

“Telling me that I can have a career or my relationship with Draco is a false choice. Respectfully, we haven’t even seen what the public reaction is yet, Mrs. Malfoy.

“I’m going to talk to Congressman Potter; Draco is going to talk to him as well. We aren’t acting underfoot, we are doing everything above board and facing it like adults. And anyway, until marriage, there are no ethics rules against dating a Member of Congress, so long as they’re not your employer.”

Narcissa shook her head, a pitying smile on her face. Hermione loathed the expression and fought her stiffening spine.

“The power of public judgment is far more salient to a Member of Congress than keeping on a single staffer, no matter how hardworking they are.”

“Then I’ll start to think about my path once off the Hill.”

“Before you do that, I ask that you seriously think about whether or not you’re willing to give up being a traditional career woman for a man. I am certainly biased when it comes to my son’s desirability as a husband, but he is still a man, and your options will be limited because of him.”

“I have, and I will continue to think it through,” Hermione smiled weakly. There really was a lot to think about… staking her whole life on one man? No matter how right it felt, it was everything that young girls were warned against doing.

“I’m blessed to say that my first love will be my only love. But I have come to terms with the fact that being with a man like Lucius means that the dreams I had for my life often play second fiddle to his. This is not Biblical submission - this is the reality of being a political spouse. Everyone tells you that compromise is the basis of a strong relationship, but you must know that whoever said that did not have a husband with the last name Malfoy. Sometimes there is no compromise, there is only nodding and going along with what your husband needs to do to win a race.”

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, “I hear what you’re saying, Mrs. Malfoy, but both of us know that I don’t fully understand because I haven’t lived it yet. I can tell you that I want to understand your experience, though. I appreciate your honesty, and I hope that you can appreciate mine as well.”

“What do you like about my son?”

That was easy. Hermione wasn’t often one for dramatics, but she could tell that Narcissa was expecting honesty and passion, and she would try her best to deliver.

“Has Draco told you about the first time we met?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

So Hermione told her every embarrassing detail about the oafish Marcus Flint yelling at her and Draco defending her honor. She even shared the details that she’d received almost a year later from Draco; that he wished he’d done more in the moment or followed after her or checked in later.

Narcissa’s eyes were wet again and a small smile appeared on her face.

“My boy is good and he is great, there’s no doubting that… I just hoped that everyone else would have a chance to see the same. This has the power to ruin him...”

‘You have the power to ruin him’ was left unsaid, but they both knew it was there. Both women felt the pain of that omission in different ways.

“They will, Mrs. Malfoy. We’re in a consensual relationship. We are adults. Stories break and then they fade; this will not define Draco or Senator Malfoy’s bid for higher office. I understand the stakes of a presidential campaign, and though I don’t land on the same side as Senator Malfoy and Draco on many issues, I’m not going to serve as a distraction or an adversary as they run their races.”

“You do understand that, God willing, Lucius becoming president opens up his Senate seat for a gubernatorial appointment? That whoever is chosen by the governor won’t have to run again until 2024 when the seat is up for election again?”

“I do,” Hermione nodded. “Draco and I have discussed the possibility. He is more than prepared to serve in the Senate, and I’m not going to stand in his way. We both have dreams, and I’m not naive enough to believe they won’t clash at some points… but I believe that we’re worth it, and I’m willing to fight for us.”

“Most days will feel like a fight, dear,” Narcissa nodded, a tear falling down her left cheek. “The arena of public opinion is one that will have you feeling more like a prized fighter than a spectator. You’ll have strangers hurling the nastiest of accusations both at you and the man you love, and you’ll be required to stand there and say nothing with a gracious smile and oftentimes a glob of spit on your cheek.”

“That seems like a rather powerless position to be in,” Hermione sympathized. It was weird, to think that soon she might be empathizing with Narcissa’s sentiments and pain.

“It’s my reality… one that I have grown to armor myself against, and I’ll be here to help you do the same if you and Draco remain together. Malfoys and Blacks do not undermine one another. We are strong because we are united. That will never change, no matter who is brought into the family. My husband… he is aloof because he has seen the consequences of trusting the wrong person before. When his children are involved, his instincts are only more pronounced. We’re trying… we are trying.”

“I understand, Mrs. Malfoy-”

The blonde held up a well-manicured hand. “Call me Narcissa, dear.”

Hermione smiled shyly, losing her train of thought. She’d done it.

xxx

“I’d think you had a crush on my mama if I didn’t know any better,” Draco teased.

Hermione had climbed on top of him the moment he’d laid down in bed, splaying her body over his like an awkward octopus.

“She texted me that she enjoyed our time together and would love to get our nails done together in the new year.”

“I’m happy for you, sweetheart. I told you that she’d love you.”

She nuzzled her head against Draco’s toned and naked chest. Now that they were intimate, he’d started sleeping in only his boxer shorts, something she would never understand. Didn’t he get cold?

“I’m just happy and worried and scared… part of us making it through the next few months is knowing that we have people in our corner ready to defend us and fight at our sides. Tonight I feel more confident that your parents will be with us, but more aware of everything that lies ahead. The challenges… the reasons so many people don’t make it past a few months in a public-facing relationship.”

“My parents were never against us; they were dubious and a bit shocked. I mean… pretty thing like you with an old man like me can only mean a few things to most people.”

“You mean that I’m a gold digger or you’re an old lecher?”

“Exactly.”

“So we’ll just prove everyone wrong,” Hermione smiled, tone a lot more optimistic than she felt.

Draco kissed her temple, running a large hand upon and down her back.

“We’ll prove everyone wrong,” he agreed. “It won’t be easy, but we need to be honest with one another with what we’re feeling.”

“You’re right. I’m a bit scared… your mom makes it seem like she gave up a lot to be with your dad.”

“It’s a bit different than our situation, she was pregnant before even leaving high school. She didn’t have a chance to find out what her life could look like without being by his side. You, though? The times are different. You can be both by my side and a career woman. Look at Hillary Clinton or even Severus. Being a spouse doesn’t mean a death sentence to your ambitions.”

“It’s just weird to think about… your mom made me nervous over what James is going to say.”

“If it makes you feel better, we can talk to him together when the time comes?”

Hermione nodded, pressing a kiss to Draco’s neck. “Please.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

She just smiled sadly, knowing that Draco would be more frustrated and distraught than she was when he came to terms with the fact that his offer of the world on a platter was a mere fantasy.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed when she was half asleep on his chest. “Your mom… she said something very ominous about her sister making all the wrong choices. What did she mean?”

Draco sighed. “I’m surprised she even brought that up vaguely. This doesn’t leave us, hm?”

“Of course.”

“It’s really messed up, Hermione…”

“I’m going to find out sooner or later, aren’t I? Take your time,” she soothed, patting his flank with her hand as she moved to sit up so she could see his face.

“My Aunt Andromeda… she’s always been a bit of a rabble rouser. She was never willing to campaign with father, which wasn’t a problem, but she made it one... she lambasted Aunt Bella when she started working for the NRA… she never wanted to be a part of the Black family or even stand adjacent to the Malfoy family. So she took a summer internship on the Hill for a Dem the summer before her senior year of college.

“Her parents were resigned to their fate at that point and let her just do what she wanted. They thought she’d get it out of her system and see that progressive politics weren’t the idealistic dreamland of free college and universal health care that people like Dumbledore paint it to be. But she returned home pregnant and alone. Turns out she’d been sleeping with an older lobbyist who was wholly unsuitable.”

“That’s awful,” Hermione frowned, looking down at Draco and realizing after a quick calculation that Andromeda’s son was nowhere near old enough to fit into this timeline. “What does wholly unsuitable even mean? It sounds like something out of the regency era.”

Draco sighed, running a hand over his face. “He was far too old and poor. He worked as a lobbyist for some hippie extremist group and actually died in a car crash before the baby was even born.”

“And the baby?” Hermione really wanted to ask if his grandparents had put a hit out on the man, but knew that Draco would be offended. She didn’t think there would ever be a point in their relationship that she could ask that without him taking offense, which was frustrating. It was something to keep in mind for later; grandparents were potentially murderers.

“Up for adoption… grandfather Black kept tabs on everything, and the child was happy and loved. He wouldn’t have allowed them to go to a home that wasn’t acceptable.”

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. “So you have a cousin that you don’t even know about.”

Draco shook his head. “I’ve come to terms with it, despite whatever feelings I have about the shadiness and callousness of it all. It’ll go to the grave, as many secrets in this town do.”

“Oh, Draco…” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears against her will. “That’s really sad.”

“That’s not going to happen to us sweetheart,” Draco promised, moving to sit up further so he could brush Hermione’s tears away. “I’d never let anyone keep you away from me.

“I know it’s not! But your poor aunt… and her poor child. Is it a girl or boy?”

Draco looked uncertain. “I can’t say more right now, Hermione. And if it makes you feel better, it’s not her child by any means but blood. This is the one topic that my mother goes ballistic over, so I have to ask that you don’t bring it up again. I’m surprised she mentioned it in the first place.”

Hermione nodded, tamping down her urge to fight back and receive the information immediately. It was hard to do, but she knew that she didn’t have a stake in this battle yet.

“Okay.”

Sleep did not come easily that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Come chat at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com
> 
> Narcissa and Lucius' DC home: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1823-Phelps-Pl-NW-Washington-DC-20008/461252_zpid/?fbclid=IwAR2NKfBLjPCwrGFzckjXX9q1Dte8m-LS-S2rKmzCtOwU9_q1Xv1Q-WylwTg
> 
> Hermione's Christmas gift from Pansy: https://www.nordstrom.com/s/ted-baker-london-olivinn-mix-stitch-fit-flare-sweater-dress/5595963?country=US¤cy=USD&utm_channel=low_nd_seo_shopping&utm_source=google&sp_source=google
> 
> Hermione's outfit for dinner with Narcissa: https://www.nordstrom.com/s/harper-rose-stand-collar-a-line-dress/5633989?country=US¤cy=USD&utm_channel=low_nd_seo_shopping&utm_source=google&sp_source=google


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! Hope everyone is doing well. Thank you to the best ever Elle Morgan-Black for scrutinizing this 16k hellion and getting it perfect. You are a queen.
> 
> Sit back, relax, and enjoy! Can't wait to know what you thought!

**December 13, 2018**

“A toast to Ranking Member Draco Malfoy!” Hermione cheered, drawing an inordinately pleased scoff from Draco. Despite his fake protest, he tapped his glass of champagne against Hermione’s.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Hermione couldn’t stop smiling. “Did you tell your parents?”

Draco shook his head. “They have Google alerts with my name, so I’m sure they already know. I was swept up in celebration before I could even think about calling them, honestly.”

“Do you want to call them now?”

“I do,” Draco nodded, smiling at Hermione as he dialed his mother’s number. The Malfoy pair was already back in North Carolina for the holidays, having flown out earlier that day.

“Draco! Congratulations,” Narcissa greeted warmly when she picked up. The news had broken soon after their departure that the House Republicans had chosen their ranking members for the next Congress, so Draco didn’t even have a chance to surprise his parents. Regardless, it seemed like they’d been waiting for his call.

“Son,” Lucius greeted, the slight tinniness of the call quality making it clear the phone was now on speaker. “We’re very proud of you; you deserve this.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Their love for Draco was evident in the moment, and despite her happiness for him, she also felt a hole in her chest at this realization. She’d never experienced that sort of excitement from her mom and dad at even her most meaningful accomplishments.

“Oh, Draco! You deserve this so much… How are you celebrating?” Narcissa asked.

His smile was fond as he took Hermione’s hand and balanced his phone on his thigh. “Hermione made a beautiful dinner, we’ve just finished eating and are now drinking champagne before I fly out tomorrow.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Narcissa replied. Lucius was quiet. “You’re certain she can’t join us over the holidays?”

Both Draco and Hermione looked surprised at that offer.

“Hermione is spending the holidays in Seattle,” Draco replied. “But there’s a chance she’ll visit over the new year if I don’t head back to DC.”

“Lovely! Tell her that we wish her a merry Christmas.”

Draco waved his hand towards Hermione.

“Thank you, Narcissa, I appreciate it. I hope you have a lovely Christmas as well!”

Hermione had to stop herself from saying happy holidays in order to not repeat what they’d just said.

God only knows how Lucius would feel about that phrase. He was almost certainly a leader in the war against the ‘war against Christmas,’ if you truly considered that a thing.

“Oh, hi Hermione!” the woman replied. “Thank you for taking care of our boy and making sure he’s properly celebrated.”

Hermione laughed a bit, “He deserves it! And I’m sure he won’t say no to a second celebration when he’s back in Charlotte.”

Even Lucius laughed at that, however stifled it was… it was laughter. She had to stop herself from pumping a fist in the air. Baby steps.

“Certainly. Make sure to call your sister, Draco. She performed two operations today, so I’m sure she hasn’t seen the news.”

“Yes, father,” Draco replied dutifully.

“We’ll see you soon, son.”

“We love you,” Narcissa’s smile was evident through the phone. Hermione’s heart ached.

“I love you too, see you soon.”

Draco called Columba immediately, and Hermione felt close to tears as the older woman’s enthusiastic praise echoed through the phone.

Was it the champagne? Or was it the realization that she had no one in her family who’d be just as happy over her accomplishments?

“What’s wrong?”

Hermione jumped, sucking in a huge breath as Draco’s voice shattered her inner spiral. Clearly he’d finished the call while she was throwing herself a pity party and being terribly rude to Columba.

“Nothing.”

No one was more surprised to find that Hermione was crying than… Hermione.

Draco was quick to react, placing his champagne flute down and pulling her onto his lap. He stroked her hair like she was a precious kitten, and that only made her cry harder.

“Sorry,” she sobbed, feeling even worse at the realization that she was hijacking Draco’s night.

“Sh, none of that… You’re okay, sweetheart,” Draco crooned, keeping up his pets and soft whispers until Hermione had a grip on herself.

“Sorry,” she whispered, sniffling pitifully. She was such a mess! “I’m sorry.”

“Can you stop apologizing, sweetheart?” Draco asked in a tone that was far more gentle than she deserved.

“No,” Hermione replied petulantly, rubbing her wet eyes on Draco’s shirt before realizing she still had mascara on. “Sorry.”

That one deserved an apology, even if he wouldn’t notice the mess she’d made until later.

“What’s got you all sad?”

She took a deep breath, trying not to cry again.

“The holidays make me mopey, and hearing your family’s joy for you just brought all of those feelings out. I’m sorry,” she repeated, but really… she was. Her baggage was a lot for anyone to handle, let alone someone like Draco whose family was nowhere near as fractured as hers.

Draco just pulled her into an even tighter embrace, and she thought it’d be nice to never leave this spot.

“I’m not sure if you heard me, but stop apologizing, sweetheart. You don’t need to apologize for how you feel, especially when something’s got you this torn up,” Draco’s tone was gentle. “Now, I have to ask… if you feel this way, why are you flying back to Seattle?”

“My grandparents asked,” she replied. “They took me in… It’s a weird cycle, honestly. They invite me home on holidays because they feel obligated and then I visit because I feel similarly obligated and we skirt around each other the whole time.”

Draco made a noise of thought, “Are they just not loving? You never talk about them… or talk to them, honestly.”

“They love me,” Hermione defended immediately before relaxing. This was Draco. She had no need to be uptight and closed off about this. “They just didn’t expect our relationship to be more than stop-ins every few weeks and on holidays. Or to have their adult daughter needing their help like she was a child again.”

“As always, my first inclination is to fix this for you, but I can’t. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much... All I can tell you is that I’m never going to tell you whether or not to talk to your family. Regardless of how close my family is, I don’t expect yours to be the same. Your familial relationships are no indication of who you are.”

“Most people put stock in them,” Hermione frowned. “Your family will think I’m emotionally stunted and could never be a good mother.”

She blushed when she realized what she brought up.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to bring that up.”

Draco kissed her temple, “If you apologize again I’m going to start crying. I promise you that they will think nothing of the sort. You are loving, smart, and loyal. When the time comes, you’ll be an amazing mother. There is no question in my mind.”

Hermione’s brain switched from her mess of a family to their future family like she had the brain capacity of a goldfish.

“You think so?” she asked. ‘You want to have kids with ME?’ was left unsaid. She already sounded desperate enough without piling that on top of him. This conversation was already one that might send him running. And if it did… she wouldn’t blame him.

“I know so, love. I hope you have no problem with blond babies because the Malfoy genes are far too strong, but yes… I can already picture you as the best mom to our children.”

“I’m caught between images of you as the soccer coach for our son’s team and you buying our daughter a pony after she mentions wanting to ride one once,” Hermione giggled.

Draco laughed, a happy, free sound as though he was relieved the floodgates on the ‘kids conversation’ were finally open. Clearly, it’d been on both of their minds, especially after their heavy talk on the fate of Andromeda’s first child.

“Why not both? Someone needs to handle the extracurriculars while you’re fighting their teachers on a subpar grade on the styrofoam planet you helped them create.”

“Our kids won’t get subpar grades,” she shook her head. Absolutely not.

“Sounds like a dream to me,” Draco smiled before rolling his eyes fondly. “You have a really bad habit of getting highly-principled conversationalists like me off topic.”

She shrugged, unrepentant. “My mind goes a million miles a minute… I can’t stay on topic.”

“Well, thankfully opposites attract. If you want to come to Charlotte for Christmas, you’re more than welcome. Dove would be overjoyed, and so would mother. It’s Auntie Walburga’s year to host, which means dinner will be served an hour late and undercooked. Or catered; God, I pray it’s catered.”

Hermione laughed, “That’s Sirius’ mom, right?”

“Right. The family’s only saving grace is his brother Regulus, who’s another example of greatness coming from less than stellar parents. Well, his father’s fine... Money can’t buy sanity, unfortunately.”

“You’re selling Christmas in Charlotte well,” Hermione smiled, knocking her forehead softly against Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I need to go home… see my mom, check in with my grandparents.”

“Are you going to tell them about us?”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll tell them that I’m dating someone, but they won’t ask more than that.”

“Sweetheart… you don’t think they’ll have worries about your much older boyfriend?”

Well, when he put it like that…

“They don’t care about anything else in my life, so why would they care about this?” She tried to sound matter-of-fact and not bitter.

Draco lifted his hands up in a placating measure. “I’m just trying to reason this out with you, baby. You need to be prepared for their questions.”

Hermione nodded, knowing he was right.

“I’ll be ready, I just think it’s a bit obscene for them to care about this when they don’t even see fit to ask about my life in general.”

“I agree with you, just… try and be ready for pushback, okay? The holidays put people into argumentative states sometimes.”

“Thank you for looking out for me,” Hermione smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to Draco’s lips.

He was a good man, and she was more grateful for him than words could ever articulate.

xxxxxx

**December 23**

All was not merry and bright at the Millen household. Hermione had arrived to her grandparents’ house over 36 hours ago, and had spent less than an hour with her relatives outside of meals.

Her mom had also not shown up to any meals, and Hermione’s grandmother waved it off as a common occurrence.

Really? What had Hermione even traveled across the country for if her mom was MIA?

The answer… to spend almost two days bored out of her mind, trying not to text Draco or Pansy SOS messages she knew they’d be all too thrilled to reply to.

All of her local friends were out of town skiing too, so there was literally no one she could call to save her from the painful company of three non-working adults who apparently wanted nothing to do with her or each other. So she decided to take matters into her own hands after yet another dinner that her mom didn’t show up to.

“So, how are you doing dear?” her grandmother asked with a smile. “Sorry we were so quiet last night… it’s been a tough few days for your grandpa and I.”

“I understand,” Hermione forced herself to smile. “I appreciate you having me here.”

“Tell us about how things are going… you look older, fancier…”

“Different!” her grandfather interjected.

“Different,” the old woman agreed.

“Well,” Hermione smiled. “I was just offered a promotion. Congressman Potter will serve as Chairman of the Energy and Commerce Committee in the new year-”

Her grandfather coughed, “Enough of that highbrow mumbo jumbo… Tell us what you’ve been up to.”

She swallowed her irritation at being cut off instead of congratulated about her accomplishments. This was the exact reason why she shared nothing with her grandparents; they didn’t understand, and they didn’t care to try.

“I’m still living with Pansy near the Capitol and it’s lovely. She’s a great roommate, and I’ve made a few good friends through work. I’m also seeing someone.”

“Oh? Tell us about him?”

Hermione was spurred on by her grandmother’s tepid interest.

“Of course. Well… he’s a bit older than me.”

“By how much?” her grandfather asked, shoveling another mouthful of rice into his mouth.

She was calm as she spoke. “18 years.”

“Lord above!” her grandmother yelped. “Is this why you’re so well-dressed?”

“Excuse me?”

She was literally wearing leggings! Did her grandmother really recognize a Goyard bag enough to surmise that she’d leveled up her wardrobe?

“Is he one of those lonely types who pays young women for company? We read the news on Facebook, you know,” her grandmother’s expression was pinched, and she looked exactly like her daughter in that moment.

“No, grandma. He’s a nice man who I get along with well.”

She wasn’t even going to touch the ‘we get our news on Facebook’ comment.

“Is he married?” her grandfather asked bluntly. Her grandmother looked scandalized, and Hermione felt sick.

“No! Of course not! How can you even suggest such a thing?”

“You’ve always been a bit naive, Hermione. A man that much older than you probably only wants one thing. As soon as he’s tired of it, he’ll go back to his wife, or find some other young thing,” her grandfather continued.

“He’s not married! And he’s not like that, at all! He’s a good, decent man.” She felt her cheeks burn in anger and frustration at their response and their awful assumptions about Draco.

“I don’t know what to say to all of this…” her grandmother said, still looking shocked, as if she believed her husband’s assumptions over her granddaughter’s statements.

“Take a breath, Maureen,” her grandfather patted his wife on the arm. “It’s hard for us, Hermione. You show up with a fancy government job, new clothes and an older boyfriend? It’s a lot for anyone to take in.”

“I understand,” Hermione forced a smile. “We barely talk as is, I’m sure this is all a shock to you.”

“It is,” Maureen agreed easily. “Your life doesn’t make much sense to us, but we’re here when you need us. Just… be careful? Older men like that are nothing but trouble, and we’re too far to help you when something goes wrong.”

“She’s right. Even if he’s giving you money, it’s not worth it. A dress can be replaced, your reputation can’t.”

Her grandfather’s face was now just as cold as his wife’s. It didn’t leave Hermione feeling any closer to the pair than she did walking in.

“I appreciate your concern, but like I said… he’s a good man.”

“Whatever you say,” her grandfather muttered.

She left dinner feeling more distant from her grandparents than she had going in. Shouldn’t they be excited about her being in a relationship? Shouldn’t they want to know all about him? Make the same leaps to her getting married and having children that her friends’ grandparents did? It seemed like nothing was ever going to be normal for her when it came to familial bonds.

Later that night, Hermione decided that since she’d broken the news to her grandparents, she might as well take another bullet to the heart and talk to her MIA mother. She knocked on the bedroom door, knowing her voice would ring clear in the otherwise silent home.

“Mom? Do you have time to talk?”

“Come in,” the woman sighed. Was she sleeping? At 7pm?

Hermione was coming from the east coast where it was three hours later and she wasn’t even tired yet.

After growing up with the woman who taught Hermione what it meant to be meticulously clean, it was tough to hide her disgust and shock at the clothes and boxes that were stacked all over the bedroom. This person was not the mother she grew up with.

“Sit down,” Jillian Millen Granger said, gesturing vaguely at the room, as if a chair would somehow appear.

Where was Hermione supposed to sit? The unmade bed that had wet towels strewn over it? The pile of clothes on the floor?

“I’m set,” Hermione replied. “We just… haven’t talked in a while. I have questions.”

The woman sighed, “I’m sure you do… have you talked to daddy?”

Hermione grimaced. She hadn’t called her father ‘daddy’ since she was four.

“I haven’t talked to dad, no. I’ve written him often without reply.”

Clearly the bitterness she felt seeped into her tone.

“You can’t take it too personally, Hermione. This has been hard on all of us.”

All of us? She was the child who was thrust into their life just on the basis of being born to these two!

“I don’t think it’s fair to group us all into the same category here,” Hermione replied, trying to rein her temper in.

Jillian Granger shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Hermione.”

“You were doing so well.”

“Until I wasn’t. This life is hard… I’m trying my best to just get by,” Jillian replied, not a shred of emotion in her voice.

That just riled Hermione up even more.

“It would be nice to hear that you’re okay every once in a while. You couldn’t have called me to tell me you weren’t doing well? Or called grandma and grandpa?”

“To say what? This is about my life, not yours…”

“Don’t you understand that this isn’t always about you, mom?”

“Clearly,” the woman sighed, not even raising her voice to match Hermione’s. It was like she’d given up completely. “Nothing has ever been about me, your father, you, work…”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have had a child if it was that much of a burden!” Hermione shrieked, temper getting the best of her in the way it always seemed to.

Her mother snorted, “We weren’t exactly trying, Hermione.”

“Excuse me?”

“You… were a surprise.”

The room was quiet for a beat as Hermione thought through what could be used in lieu of surprise.

“A mistake?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” the woman flicked her wrist towards Hermione as though this were a conversation about the sky being blue and grass being green. “Plenty of children are mistakes. We kept you, though, didn’t we? Raised you with new clothes, three square meals, all of the books you could ever want...”

“What’s wrong with you?” Hermione asked, lip trembling.

“I’m going through withdrawals, my husband is in jail, my parents treat me like a prisoner, my daughter’s here harping at me… what am I missing?”

“I- I’m sorry you’re dealing with so much. But it’s not just about you. I needed you too and you abandoned me; I was just a little girl and you shut me off from getting help with every lie you told to grandma and grandpa, my teachers, other parents... When you have a child, wanted or not, you have an obligation to them. You and dad failed.”

“We’re years past it Hermione. What is the point of relitigating this? Do you have a device to turn back time?”

The younger woman let out a tense breath, voice garbled with tears when she spoke next.

“Do you even care about my life? About my job? That I have a boyfriend? That I’m living across the country alone and you’ve never once checked in to see where I’m living or if everything is going well?”

Jillian slapped a hand to her forehead. There was no anger in her next words, only exhaustion. This wasn’t defensiveness; this was her mother severing what was left of their relationship without a fight. It was clear that Hermione was the only one who’d been fighting to keep their family bond alive, which only made this conversation more painful.

“Hermione… you’re an adult now. I see your texts… they make it clear how great your life is. I’m sure your emails to your father are the same. It’s obvious that you are doing well for yourself, so why would I ask if you need help?”

“Because that’s what parents are supposed to do!” Hermione replied, trying to hide her pitiful, sniffling sobs.

Her mom continued on as though she hadn’t spoken, “Look… we are happy you’ve landed on your feet, but that isn’t the reality for all of us. And hearing you brag about your fancy job and new house and work Christmas parties is the last thing that I need. Honestly, that’s probably why your father isn’t replying to you. There’s only so much a person can take.”

There was a clear thought in her mind… there was no salvaging this relationship. Not for a long while, if ever. Her mom had made sure of that.

So she left the room without a word, doing her best to hid her sobs until she was back in the basement and falling onto the stiff bed she’d called her own since her parents left her many years ago.

There was a weird finality in the conversation Hermione just had with her mom, and despite the crushing weight of truth that it carried… there was immense relief. Relief to discover that she was as much a burden to her parents as they were to her.

She needed another opinion on this, and there was only one person who could be honest enough to be trusted.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Hermione replied, voice cracking on the single syllable.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pansy asked, stepping out from what was clearly a crowded room. “Sorry, we’re out at a bar. What’s going on?”

“My mom just told me that I was a mistake and that they never wanted kids.”

“Fuck that bitch,” Pansy replied with a scoff. “Seriously, Hermione. They give you no financial assistance, you have no communications with them, and they aren’t even an emotional outlet for you. Your parents are dead weight, and as much as society wants us to believe that all family relationships are to be cherished… we both know that isn't true.”

“So what now?” Hermione huffed in reply.

“So you get the hell out of there and come spend the holiday with Draco or me. Personally, I think that St. Bart’s is far better than North Carolina, but it’s up to you, sis.”

“I’d rather have my first time in the Caribbean be one where I don’t spend two days on a plane to get there,” Hermione frowned.

“I wish I could say that was a bad excuse, but shit. You’re right. Theo’s here, though,” Pansy replied.

“Oh, Pans… be careful,” Hermione warned before smiling softly. “And tell me everything.”

Pansy cackled, “I will. Call me back after you talk to Draco, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hermione replied.

“No more tears!” Pansy replied. “Save them for your very Malfoy Christmas dinner, your teary-eyed Bambi look might score you pity points.”

Hermione laughed at that.

xxxxxx

**December 24, 2018**

Hermione was exhausted by the time her plane landed, but begrudgingly grateful for Draco’s willingness to throw money at problems and pick her up at 5am instead of having her take a cab.

Not saying ‘I love you’ when she saw him leaning against his truck was almost impossible.

She didn’t even give him a chance to ask questions once they’d gotten back to his house, instead choosing to grab a shirt from his dresser and climb into his bed for a nap. Thankfully, Draco didn’t protest.

“Is it weird to be this happy after storming out on my family?” she asked, voice little more than a croaky after they finally woke up from a long morning nap. Crying always wrecked her voice.

“I don’t think so,” Draco replied, rolling over so that he was pressed right up against Hermione’s side, morning breath be damned. “Sometimes you don’t realize the emotional weight that relationships have on you until they’re severed.”

“I didn’t have this on my 2018 bingo card,” Hermione replied, drawing a surprised laugh from Draco.

“Your humor always shows up in the weirdest of times,” he murmured. “What do you want to do today?”

“Something Christmassy.”

“We can go to the Charlotte Christmas Village… there are a ton of baked goods and it’ll tickle all of your holiday fancies.”

Hermione snorted before sobering up. “Do you need to tell your family I’m here?”

Draco nodded, clearly putting on a brave face.

“I’ll call my mother this morning and let her deal with Aunt Walburga since they’re hosting dinner.”

“I don’t have to go to your dinner, Draco.”

He shook his head, “Actually, you do. Better to jump in the fire than dance around it and let it burn out of control, sweetheart. Especially since Columba will be there…”

“Will Sirius?”

Draco looked thoughtful, “Actually, I don’t know… he shows up when he needs money or to talk to father about a bill he’s advocating for, so Christmas before the start of a new Congress is always a possibility.”

“Hopefully he does and the heat is off of us.”

“We’ll be fine either way,” Draco promised. “Why don’t you see if Luna wants to come with us?”

“Oh, yes! I’ll go shower and text her,” Hermione smiled, kissing Draco before hopping off the bed.

xxx

“That was… illuminating,” Blaise said, pressing a hand to his forehead as they pulled into the large parking lot for the market. “Anyone have Advil?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Luna rolled her eyes as she opened her purse and threw a bottle towards her husband. “You’ve had every chance to learn the lyrics!”

“Luna, we don’t want to know the lyrics. If I never hear a song from Hamilton again, it’ll be too soon,” Draco replied. Blaise nodded fervently.

“Well thank the good Lord I have Hermione here then,” the blonde smiled, looping elbows with Hermione.

“I wish you knew her when you made us see it in New York,” Draco frowned. “We could’ve saved three hours of our life.”

“I almost left Draco when he told me how awful it was. You guys saw it with the original cast!” Hermione scoffed. “You should have to pass a test to even get into the theatre so that undeserving people like Draco can’t get tickets.”

“Sorry to break the bad news, but capitalism is the way of the world, sweetheart,” Draco winked, loving the angry scowl he got from Hermione. “If only we’d met a few years earlier…”

“We’ll have to go again,” Luna smiled, drawing groans from both Blaise and Draco. “Why don’t you two go grab hot chocolate? I want to see the gnome selection before the authentic ones are gone.”

“Yes, love,” Blaise replied dutifully, turning around and pulling Draco along before Hermione could even ask what an authentic gnome was.

“How are you, Hermione? I have to say I didn’t believe Draco when he said you weren’t coming. I had a hunch…”

“You can’t convince me that you’re not a psychic,” Hermione replied. “I’m okay… surprised to be here, a bit nervous about dinner tomorrow, grappling with family drama. The normal holiday feelings.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Luna sighed, voice kind enough to bring tears to Hermione’s eyes. “I’m so sorry that you’re going through so much, but I hope you know how loved you are by your found family. And you’ll have a tough time getting rid of us.”

“I do,” she replied, her smile watery as Luna pulled her up to the vendor selling handknit Christmas gnomes. “It’s just weird to finally let go in a way that I’ve always felt guilty of even thinking about. Society tells us that we’re blessed to have parents who are together and alive… I’m pretty sure they could do more when it comes to telling us that not all parents are good people and we don’t need to fight to keep them in our lives, you know?”

“I do,” Luna smiled. “My mom died when I was nine, and the amount of people who told my dad he needed to find a new wife for my sake was enough to drive him mad. People are not better because they’re married; there’s no magical covenant that makes them kinder or more patient or more wise.”

“That is exactly what I need to hear,” Hermione nodded. “I can’t believe they did that to your dad… even if they thought they were helping, it was wrong.”

“You also need to believe it,” the blonde replied knowingly. “Emotional wounds take time to heal, but thankfully love and trust are two of the strongest salves. And you have both of those in your life in abundance.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, knowing that was enough for now. “What do you do with these gnomes?”

“Oh, I give them as gifts,” Luna smiled serenely. “Mrs. Malfoy has a whole gnome collection near their fireplace every Christmas, actually. She is always extremely excited to see the newest member of the family.”

Hermione had to hide a laugh at that. “They’re all so well-crafted… clearly a lot of love went into them.”

The gnomes were handknit and had fluffy, sagging hats and equally saggy beards. Their eyes were black buttons that reminded Hermione of Coraline. There was no way in hell she’d let them into her house.

“Yes, Hilda and Astrid are extremely talented. It looks like Hilda’s just finishing up with a customer now.”

“My beautiful moon!” an old, wrinkly woman smiled as she waddled over to Luna with the bells on her red santa coat jingling all the way. Her accent was deep, eastern European if Hermione wagered a guess, and her eyes were kind. “Are you here for the gnomes?”

“Hi Hilda,” Luna smiled, returning the woman’s hug with the same warmth. “This is my dear friend, Hermione. I wanted to bring her by to see the fruits of your labor!”

“So sweet, my Luna,” the woman replied, clasping her hands to her heart. “Miss Hermione, come around the table and I’ll show you our gnomes.”

Draco and Blaise were MIA the entire time they were at the booth, clearly knowing Luna well enough to stay away while Hilda shared the rich folklore surrounding Christmas gnomes.

Hermione learned something new, and was one thousand percent certain that Narcissa Malfoy would be completely perturbed by the idea of Christmas gnomes, which were ‘household spirits’ that, as the story goes, were responsible for the prosperity of the family they resided with. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Malfoys had a far-off storage locker solely that they entered twice a year… to take the gnomes in and out.

“Come visit us for dinner soon, Luna!” Hilda asked, waving a jiggly arm as the women walked away. Luna had a paper bag full to the brim with new gnomes on her arm, and Hermione had a red-hatted gnome that Hilda insisted she take as a gift of friendship.

“What’s taking Blaise and Draco so long?” Hermione asked.

Luna laughed, “They hate the gnomes. Blaise says they’re satanic and idolatrous, but I think he just doesn’t like classic holiday decor. He tried to buy a fake tree last year!”

Hermione nodded, too bad of a liar to disagree. The gnomes were pretty creepy.

“Ah, we were just coming to find you,” Blaise smiled from where they were conveniently waiting a few stands over.

“What serendipitous timing,” Luna smiled, placing her heavy bags into Blaise’s hands.

“I have a lot of questions,” Hermione murmured as Draco pulled her into a hug. His hair was obscured by a knit Tar Heels hat that he’d pulled low on his head and a scarf was wrapped around his neck.

Draco laughed, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose in the way that always made her feel like a fairy princess.

“Later,” he promised.

“Did you not get us hot chocolate?” she replied, pouting as she pulled back from their embrace and realized his hands were empty.

“The truck has mulled cider, so we wanted to see what you two would rather have before we made the decision for you.”

“Hot chocolate,” Hermione replied, drawing a smug smile from Draco that had her rolling her eyes. “Which you clearly guessed.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he replied, intertwining his hand with Hermione’s as he pulled her along to the truck proclaiming itself the carrier of piping hot drinks and the best strudels in North Carolina.

Hermione had to agree once she put a cherry strudel into her mouth for the first time.

“Is it bad to say that the only comparison I have for this is a cherry poptart?”

Blaise laughed, “I’m the only one here who will understand that reference, and I agree. These are much better.”

“Hey!” Draco replied. “I know what a poptart is.”

“But you’ve never had one,” Blaise finished, smirking as Draco hung his head in defeat. “Knew it.”

“Excuse me?” a soft voice asked, and the group turned around to see an old woman in an ugly Christmas sweater with two small children at her side.

Draco turned his charm on immediately.

“Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Oh, it is him!” the woman smiled. “Pete! C’mere! I told you.”

An old man in a flannel who was clearly pretending to check out a table full of homemade jewelry shuffled over.

“I told my husband Pete it was you, and he didn’t believe me. Kids, c’mere, this is a very important man…”

Hermione stepped back with Luna to watch as Blaise graciously took the woman’s phone to photograph their interaction with Draco. She felt her stomach clench as the blond crouched down to interact with the children who looked like they were three and five at her best guess. Of course she’d seen photos of Draco with kids, but seeing him in action? She loathed how 2013 it made her sound, but her ovaries were exploding.

After Blaise handed the woman what looked to be his business card, the small family walked away.

Draco was smiling as he walked back up to Hermione. “What a sweet family. Their daughter just went into labor with her third child so they’re watching these two for a few days.”

“That woman must’ve had eyes like a hawk to recognize you,” Hermione laughed.

“It’s the nose,” Draco sighed, rubbing a hand down the appendage as if she needed an explanation. “I was cursed with pointy, recognizable features.”

“Perfectly pointy,” Hermione reassured him, receiving a kiss on her own nose in return.

“Need anything else?” Draco asked.

“I’m good,” Hermione replied. She’d bought her gifts before coming out and had the foresight to send Luna and Draco’s presents to Charlotte before heading to Seattle. She’d also bought Blaise a bottle of whisky that Draco promised was his favorite and called it a day. Thankfully, male acquaintances were pretty easy to shop for.

“Hermione,” Luna said quietly as they neared Draco’s home. Blaise’s car was bigger than Draco’s, so they’d driven to the market. “Let me know if you need anything tomorrow, okay? Walburga told me a few years ago that she’s certain I’m a witch who’s going to shrivel into nothingness everytime I step into church, so I am more than happy to interrupt tomorrow night’s dinner if I need to.”

“I have so many questions,” Hermione replied, shaking her head before pulling Luna into a tight hug in the car. “But thank you. You are the best and I don’t know what I’d do without you, Luna.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she agreed. “I’ll be praying for you. Please text me and let me know how it goes.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to live updates, but if it does you’ll be the one receiving them.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Bye Hermione! Bye Draco!” The blond exclaimed as Hermione hopped out of the car with a wave to blaise.

“I love her,” Hermione sighed as she and Draco walked back into his house. The heat was blasting, and she didn’t realize how cold it was outside until she was warm again.

“Blaise is a lucky man.”

“How did they meet?”

“At the Carolinian Debutante Club,” Draco smirked. “It was Luna’s first and only time visiting. Some teacher at her school bamboozled her poor father into having her attend to show off what she’s learned at her etiquette lessons or something awfully patronizing like that. Blaise found her dancing barefoot outside and claims he fell in love then and there.”

“That’s so sweet! And so very Luna. Blaise seems good for her.”

“He is,” Draco agreed. “She is as free-spirited as a high-class southern woman can be, and he’s a gentleman and a softie. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more well-matched couple.”

“Oh!” Hermione let out a loud laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth. “The gnomes. I need to know all of your mom’s thoughts on the gnomes.”

“You mean the satanic dolls that are kept in storage containers in a shed until we know Luna’s coming over during the holiday season?”

“I knew it! Does Luna really think your mom likes them?”

“Mom thinks Luna is a sweetheart and would kill father for even insinuating that the dolls aren’t out all season. We do what we can to make Luna happy, and that’s bringing the dolls out one day a year. Mama and Columba were hoping that I’d marry her, actually.”

“What?” Hermione asked, eyes wide as she thought through that possibility.

“Her father has always been a part of our social circle, and they initially loved the idea of me marrying someone as blonde as we are. Then they got to know her, and fell even more in love. If the gnomes are all it takes to make Luna smile… mom is more than happy to oblige.”

“They really are scary, though,” Hermione couldn’t help but smile. The idea of Narcissa liking Luna enough to ruin the extremely classy decor in her house endeared her to Hermione even more. Anyone who loved Luna that much was tops in her book.

“If you think the gnomes are bad, wait until you see my aunt’s house,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “The tree in her front foyer is decorated with heads from her childhood dolls. It’s terrifying, but no one can convince her that it’s more scary than it is sentimental.”

“You’re selling your family Christmas really well.”

“You have no choice but to endure it,” Draco replied with the shake of his head. “We all suffer, but just think of how many stories you’ll have to tell on the other side!”

xxxxxx

**December 25, 2018**

“You are perfect,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s lips as he turned his car off. They were pulled up in a large half-circle driveway where a large number of cars were already parked.

She smiled shakily, looking down to make sure the long sleeve green dress that Pansy had gotten her for Christmas earlier in the month was still perfectly ironed.

“Columba and my parents are already here, everything will be fine,” Draco replied. “And if it’s not, just let my family sort it out. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione smiled shakily, waiting for Draco as he walked around the car to open her door and help her out of the truck. The last thing she needed was to break her foot in the heels she was wearing.

“Master Draco,” a very old man with large ears greeted as they entered the opulent old mansion. It was clear he’d been watching their approach.

“Mr. Kree, hope you’re doing well,” Draco greeted. “This is my girlfriend, Hermione.”

The man’s eyes widened, “Ah, yes… It is a pleasure to welcome you to Black Manor, miss.”

Hermione could tell Draco was trying not to roll his eyes at the man’s clear reverence for his employers. When she’d heard that the families employed housekeepers, she didn’t expect someone of this man’s clear subservient nature.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, allowing Draco to remove her coat and hand it to the man. It was hard not to let out a snort at the decorations; the live Christmas tree was indeed decorated with the heads of dolls and large, tacky flowers. It was the mark of a rich person who had no style whatsoever, and Hermione was even more excited to meet Walburga Black at this point.

“Everyone’s in the main sitting room, Master Draco,” the man nodded as he hobbled over to a closet with their jackets in tow.

“Thank you,” Draco replied, lowering his voice once they were farther away. “He’s worked here forever… we called him ‘creature’ as little kids, I think Regulus and Sirius still do, honestly.”

“That’s mean,” Hermione replied. “Poor guy.”

“He cried tears of joy the first time Sirius said it, actually, something about finally connecting with the heir to the Black fortune.”

“No comment,” Hermione replied, once again feeling weird about the potential of Sirius being there. It seemed that he turned out pretty well if this dreary, medieval home was where he was raised.

“Dragon!” Columba cried out as they finally found a room with people in it in the dark, windowless hallways that made up the Black manor. “Hermione!”

Hermione was relieved by the hug that she was dragged into. The slight floral scent of Columba was a balm to her soul.

“Hi Columba!” Hermione replied quietly, well aware of the silence that’d fallen over the room. Weren’t rich people supposed to pretend to have social graces?

“I’m so happy you decided to come,” the pretty blonde replied, clearly uncaring of everyone who was listening in.

Draco was still standing behind her, and Hermione could only imagine the look on his face.

“Well?” a beautiful black-haired woman asked, her curls even more riotous than Hermione’s own.

Draco sighed. “Merry Christmas, everyone. This is my girlfriend, Hermione. She’ll be dining with us tonight, and I expect you all to make her feel welcome.”

He sounded more like a Congressman than someone addressing their mostly-older relatives.

“Of course Hermione’s welcome!” Narcissa smiled, floating over to the pair and pressing air kisses to Hermione’s cheek in a way that was clearly her standard greeting.

“She does look young,” an older black-haired man said before someone who looked like his twin turned around and slapped his arm. “What, Cyg? It’s no insult to say a lady looks young!”

Hermione blushed at the conversation. One of these men was clearly Narcissa’s father, while the other had to be Sirius’ based on the family resemblance.

“Hi there, I’m Rolf,” a tall, very normal looking middle-aged man smiled. “This is our son, Leo.”

Leo was just as blond as Columba and Draco, but had the same features as his father. He was the perfect mix of the pair; looked like blond hair was the only extremely strong Malfoy trait.

“It’s so nice to meet you both!” Hermione smiled. “Merry Christmas, Leo.”

“Thank you for my gift,” the boy said dutifully. “I already started building it!”

“And there are pieces everywhere!” Columba smiled. “The Death Star? What were you two thinking?”

Draco just laughed, “It was Hermione’s idea.”

“Thank you, Hermione!” Leo smiled, lunging to pull the newcomer into a hug. “It’s so cool!”

She hugged him back, missing the warm look that Draco and Columba shared.

“Of course. Your mom will have to send me a photo when you’re done.”

“It’ll take forever! There’s like… a million pieces!” the boy explained while Hermione listened intently.

Hermione had been disturbed when Draco shared that he normally just took his nephew to the mall and let him buy whatever he wanted before Christmas. The point of Christmas gifts was to show someone that you cared about them, and Hermione believed the best way to do that was buying gifts that mattered to them. So she was inordinately pleased that Leo loved their gift and that Draco insisted on making it a joint venture in the first place.

A man and woman smiled as they stepped up to the small group Hermione was stood with, including a man she knew to be Regulus Black just based on his resemblance to his older brother. Well… if, you know, Sirius had showered regularly, never smoked a cigarette and ruined his skin, and wore expensive, well-fitting suits. She knew that the raggedy macho man look was attractive to some, but Hermione personally thought that the younger Black was far more attractive.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am. My name is Regulus and this is my wife, Maryam.”

Hermione was honestly surprised to see that his wife wasn’t pale white like the rest of the brood and that she had a light accent when she spoke. She couldn’t even feel guilty for wondering what Walburga thought about Regulus’ decision to marry someone who didn’t fit into the neat box of a typical blonde southern princess.

“Nice to meet you both,” Hermione replied.

“Would you like a drink?” Maryam asked, a small smile playing on her perfectly full lips. Her glossy black hair was curled down her back, and she reminded Hermione of a petite Amal Clooney. She wondered why she hadn’t heard that Columba wasn’t the only normal member of the Black-Malfoy family.

“That’d be lovely,” Hermione laughed, missing the way Draco and Regulus shared commiserating smirks over the womens’ heads.

“I’ll be right back,” she replied with a wink.

“Are you from the area, Hermione?” Regulus asked, expression genuinely curious.

People in DC were far too interested in connections over connection, and Hermione sorely missed getting questions from others who actually wanted to get to know her rather than what she could do for them.

“I’m from Seattle, actually. Draco and I met in DC.”

“That’s my next question answered,” Regulus replied.

“You zone out during the Thanksgiving inquisition, Reg?” Draco laughed.

The raven-haired man rolled his eyes. He was extremely attractive, and more angular than pointy. His eyes were the same as Draco’s, though, which was the only discernibly shared feature other than their tall, lithely muscled physiques.

“I was six drinks to the wind, mate. Mother was unbearable before we’d even made it over.”

“How’s she tonight?” Draco asked quietly.

“One of the cooks she hired burnt a pan of rolls, so we only have 64 instead of 72. That happened at 3pm, so we were subject to about two hours of yelling while the game was on,” the man replied.

“And Sirius?” Draco asked.

Regulus shrugged as Maryam walked back up with a glass of white wine in hand. Hermione smiled at the woman as she took one.

“Maryam thinks that he’ll show up, but I’m not sure.”

“Oh, he’s coming,” the woman nodded. “It’s the start of a new Congress, he certainly has something he wants to throw into Lucius’ agenda.”

Hermione felt worry pool in her stomach; what would Sirius say to James if he saw her here? Draco promised that wouldn’t be a problem, but she wasn’t so sure.

As much as the man wanted to control everyone and everything, that wasn’t always realistic. He wasn’t God or even Superman, though she knew he’d be disgruntled by the realization.

“This is the only time I’ll ever hope for Sirius to show up and soak up all of the attention,” Draco replied, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s hair.

“Well hello there, little lady!” a deep voice exclaimed, and Hermione turned around to see none other than Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, Livana. They’d been a staple in the news for as long as she could remember; as a political junkie, it was a bit exciting to be meeting the man. Republican or Democrat, he was a legend.

“Hello, sir,” Hermione smiled before immediately being pulled into a weird group hug between both of Draco’s paternal grandparents.

“None of that propriety, dolly! Welcome to the family,” Abraxas crooned, sounding very much like his grandson and nothing like his stiff, often pompous son.

“We’re so happy to meet our dragon’s lady,” Livana smiled. Her hair was a pretty strawberry blonde, and she looked far younger than nearly 80. Clearly, all sides of this family had won the genetics lottery.

“I’m just as pleased to meet you both. I’ve been looking forward to it,” Hermione replied honestly.

“To hell with Wally’s seating arrangement! You two will be near us,” Abraxas stated, receiving an eye roll from his wife.

“Absolutely not, Brax. This dinner will be tough enough to sit through without your antics… just stick with the seating arrangements!” Livana reprimanded in a far more candid way than Hermione expected. The woman shot Hermione an apologetic smile after. “Sorry, dear… someone needs to knock some sense into him.”

“I’ve prepared Hermione well,” Draco nodded, looking relaxed around his grandparents in a way that surprised her. “We’ll make it through this.”

“At least the old bat didn’t try to cook,” Abraxas muttered, taking a swig of the amber liquid in his glass.

“Oh, you are a scoundrel!” Livana scowled at her husband in a way that was reminiscent of any beautiful old couple in a black and white movie. Hermione loved them.

“Want Livy and I to join you as you do the rounds?” Abraxas asked.

“We’ll be fine, just feel free to jump in and defend our honor if you hear yelling,” Draco smirked, drawing two firm nods from his grandparents.

It looked like they had two more people in their corner, including Livana, a woman who Hermione could already tell was the type to threaten her son with, “I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it.” It was impossible not to be comforted by that knowledge.

Draco had already shared his strategy for introductions; start with the relatives he liked and hope that dinner would be ready before he could take her over to Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Walburga.

“Draco!” a beautiful woman greeted. Her hair was jet black and had a few stripes of grey in it, making it clear she didn’t care enough to dye it. That was a win in Hermione's book.

“Aunt Andromeda, Uncle Justin,” he replied. “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Hermione.”

The girl was swept into another hug, and she took in the soothing scent of roses and freshly mowed grass. Whatever the perfume was, it was expensive and subtle.

“Call me Andy, dear,” the woman greeted. Her face had laugh lines; was this a woman who didn’t feel the need to get botox or dye her hair to feel beautiful? Hermione wanted to stick with her and also hire an investigator to figure out how she’d turned out like this when her sisters were clearly enamored with the luxury of southern aristocracy.

“Andy, it’s so nice to meet you,” Hermione smiled, trying to figure out where she’d seen the woman’s face before. She looked so familiar, but Hermione couldn’t put her finger on it. “Justin, sir, nice to meet you as well.”

“Justin will do,” the man replied in an extremely thick, slow southern drawl. Clearly he was from further south than North Carolina.

“Where is J?” Draco asked, and Hermione knew that to be their son, Justin, Jr. who Draco wasn’t a big fan of.

“Oh, he’s down in Georgia with the miss and little ones,” the older man said, nodding his head. The man was far less attractive than his wife and aging poorly; not that it mattered, of course, if he treated his clearly lovely wife well.

“I’m glad you still made it,” Draco smiled, and by Justin’s head nod, it was clear he wanted to be anywhere but here. Hermione could vibe with that.

Before they could exit the conversation gracefully, a bell rang.

“Make your way to the dining room and please abide by the placards! They are on the table for a reason,” an older woman with a shock of curly, jet black hair commanded, narrowing her eyes across the room. Hermione guessed that she was staring at Abraxas. Clearly, he was a known problem at family events.

“You okay?” Draco asked quietly, and Hermione nodded. She could tell that he was more anxious than she was at this point, and she could be the one to care for him for once.

“I’m hungry,” Hermione smiled. “Hopefully I can nab at least a dozen of the 64 rolls.”

Draco laughed loudly, drawing the attention of at least a few relatives.

“Dragon, love,” a light, female voice called out.

“Hi gram,” Draco smiled, accepting a hug and kiss to his cheek from a woman who looked like a slightly older Narcissa. Yep, these people did not age.

“I’ll be! What a beautiful young lady! Aren’t you lucky, Draco?” the woman asked, pulling Hermione in for an air hug.

“Oh, you women,” one of the two older, dark-haired men groaned. “Call me grandfather, dear, and ready yourself for the onslaught.”

“Oh, Cyg! Don’t scare the poor dear,” Druella Black smiled kindly, her wrinkles in no way interfering with her sharp-as-glass jawline. “Don’t worry about Walburga… she’s an old bat, but she comes with the family package. If I lived through meeting Cyggy’s parents, I promise you can make it through this batch of Blacks.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, truly shocked at how this family who was known for never acting scandalously in public was so willing to talk shit about each other in front of… each other. It was wild and completely unexpected. Was it a test to try and get Hermione to trip up and join in on the gossip? Based on the pleased expression on Draco’s face as his relatives trashed one another, she didn’t think so.

They headed down another darkly decorated hallway to a large, blessedly lit dining room. The Christmas tree in the corner of this room was decorated normally, much to Hermione’s relief.

The draconian room looked like something out of Game of Thrones. The chairs were upholstered with blood red velvet and the table looked like it was carved out of matte black marble. All that was missing from the room were a basket and a guillotine.

“Draco, Hermione,” Narcissa called lightly, sitting down when Lucius pulled her chair out. “You’re next to Luc and me.”

Phew. She really thought that Draco’s aunt would’ve placed her near Bellatrix for everyone’s entertainment.

Hermione’s placard was in between Abraxas and Draco, which had her breathing a major sigh of relief.

Draco’s mother was to his left, and it was clear that Walburga spaced it out male-female as though this were some mix and mingle and not a family dinner.

“See what I’m dealing with?” Abraxas whispered after Draco had pushed Hermione into her seat.

Well, he said it loudly but held his hand up so that it had the semblance of a private conversation. “Look at me, sat in the middle of the table like a pleb and not an elder statesman! No respect.”

Hermione giggled at that, which seemed to be the response the man was looking for as he shot her a wink before turning back to his wife.

Directly across the table from Hermione was a woman with blood red lipstick who looked like Andromeda if she’d undergone enough botox treatments to the point of her skin ripping in half if she'd shown any emotion.

The woman, Bellatrix, Hermione knew, had her curls dyed pitch black too. Her husband was just as bland looking as Draco had promised; tall, a bit thick in the belly as most middle-aged men who relied on their long-gone metabolism instead of a regular gym routine were.

“Shall we be led in prayer?” Walburga asked as though they were at a cathedral. She made a show of tucking her ghastly black tulle skirt under her before being pushed into her seat by her husband.

“I shall lead,” her husband, Orion, smirked before sitting down at the head of the table and leading them in a short prayer that was far more ostentatious and King James-esque than Hermione had ever heard. It seemed to fit Orion and Walburga Black’s pretentiousness well, all things considered.

Hermione noticed that there wasn’t a chair at the other head of the table, even though that could’ve saved everyone from being squished together as tightly as they were. Egos were a fickle thing.

The rolls hadn’t even made it to Hermione before the questions started.

“So, Draco… aren’t you going to introduce us to your girl?” Bellatrix asked before turning to squint in disgust at her husband as he ripped a roll in half and shoved the bigger part in his mouth. Ew.

“This is Hermione,” Draco said, kind enough not to state that he’d already introduced her when they first arrived.

“So, Hermione,” the woman drawled. “What do you do?”

She sighed, knowing Draco had already been subject to this conversation at Thanksgiving.

“I work on the Hill.”

“For a Democrat,” Bellatrix replied, prompting Walburga to draw in a large gasp. Were they really going to pretend that they didn’t know anything about her?

“That’s right,” Hermione smiled serenely. “What do you do?”

“I’m the spokeswoman for the country’s longest-standing civil rights organization,” Bellatrix replied.

Hermione had to hold a laugh in.

“She means the NRA,” Justin chimed in unhelpfully while Andromeda just shook her head slightly and took a sip of wine.

“What else would I be referencing, Finch-Fletchley? The ACLU? NAACP?” Bellatrix replied, drawing a laugh from her husband and father.

“Enough with this jibber jabber,” Abraxas chimed in.

“Respectfully, sir, it’s not jibber jabber,” Bellatrix replied.

“She’s right!” Walburga chimed in, nodding rapidly. “If you are too soft to ask these questions of someone joining our family, then we will do it for you!”

“That’s quite enough, Walburga.” Lucius chimed in coldly.

“Is it?” she replied, a scowl on her face.

“It is,” Lucius repeated.

Saved by the bell, the sound of shoes clicking on the floor sounded on the tile floors.

“Aw, hell,” Regulus muttered from across the table, leaning into his wife’s side.

“Started without me?”

“The audacity!” Walburga shrieked at the newcomer who Hermione couldn’t see from her vantage point. There was no questioning who it was, though. “You show up? Late? Dressed like some 1990s sex fiend?”

“Nice to see you too, mother. Happy holidays to you all.”

“It’s Merry Christmas!” Bellatrix, Lucius, Cygnus and Justin replied.

Lord help them.

Sirius laughed, “You are all so easy to rile up. Where am I sitting?”

“See if you can find yourself a chair, son,” Orion sighed, running a hand through his grey hair at the head of the table while Sirius walked out of the room.

Draco took Hermione’s hand in his, and she wanted to throw up at what would certainly be a spectacle once he saw her.

“It’s almost like you hid chairs so that I couldn’t join you,” Sirius muttered.

“Almost,” Walburga agreed.

Hermione was bracing for impact as Sirius dragged his chair around the table to sit next to Andromeda who was on the opposite side of the table from the Malfoy clan.

“What the… Harry’s little Hermione?” Sirius gaped, looking like a dumb, attractive fish caught on a hook. “Have you been kidnapped?”

Hermione was grateful for Draco’s composure.

“Sirius,” he greeted, rubbing his thumb up and down Hermione’s knuckles comfortingly. “This is my girlfriend, Hermione.”

The man laughed, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

Bellatrix and Walburga looked far too amused at this turn of events.

“You are,” Justin replied helpfully, drawing a groan from almost everyone at the table.

“What the hell is going on? She’s like… 12. And works at a front desk. For a Democrat.” Sirius ticked off everything wrong with Hermione on his fingers and she wanted to either scream or sink under the table.

“She’s 22, recently promoted, and does fantastic work for your only friend,” Draco shot back.

“She could be your daughter.”

“Funny you mention that, because I remember her boss having to remind you of the same thing when you were coming onto Hermione at Thanksgiving,” Draco replied, drawing shocked gasps from Druella, Columba, Narcissa and Walburga.

Sirius had the decency to plop himself down in his seat at that.

“This is gonna blow up in your faces, you know that? There is no good end to this.”

Now he has morals? Now?

“Draco and Hermione’s relationship is none of your business, Sirius,” Columba chimed in, voice colder than Hermione’s ever heard it. “You’re ruining a perfectly good celebration of our Savior’s birth with your antics.”

“She is right, as usual,” Orion agreed. “Sit down and eat or get out.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

Leo, Columba’s son, let out a snicker. As the only kid here, Hermione felt rather bad for him.

“Don’t come crawling to me when this blows up in your face,” Sirius repeated.

“I can hardly think anyone would come to you for help with a problem,” Walburga replied. It seemed as though her voice only had one tone; a loud shriek.

“Well,” Regulus chimed in after a long moment where only silverware scraping across china could be heard. “We have some news that we wanted to share…”

“Hopefully this will lift everyone’s spirits,” Maryam smiled, turning to look at Regulus. “I’m pregnant… with twins.”

The room lit up immediately, and Hermione couldn’t have been more grateful for the other couple’s good fortune.

“Grandchildren! Two of them,” Walburga beamed, getting up from the table to pull the pair into a hug. “God has blessed us so!”

“Congratulations you two,” Orion replied, his eyes suspiciously watery as he pulled Maryam into a hug.

“When are you due?” Druella asked, a smile on her face.

“June 30,” Maryam replied, sitting back down at the table after a round of hugs.

“Oh! What if they’re Independence Day babies?” Bellatrix asked.

“That’d be pretty neat,” Rodolphus agreed.

“Twins,” Walburga repeated, shaking her head. “We’ve never had twins in the Black family!”

“My father has twin brothers,” Maryam explained to the group. “I’m surprised none of my siblings have had twins yet!”

Regulus let out a happy laugh at that, clearly elated to finally have his family brought in on their good news.

Hermione felt genuinely happy for the pair, but could also feel eyes on her and Draco as though they were wondering when they planned on having kids. It was a question she knew they’d get frequently in the days ahead, especially with their age difference.

“Hopefully that means I’m off the hook,” Sirius replied.

“I don’t want any of your out-of-wedlock babies, Sirius Orion Black!” Walburga spat back. “It’s past time you’ve found yourself a wife and moved home.”

“Portland is my home,” he replied, slathering a roll with gravy in a way that had Hermione’s stomach rolling. He really was foul.

“It’s like you were raised by wolves,” Cygnus sighed, clearly disgusted with his cousin’s oldest son.

More like he was raised by a shrieking banshee, Hermione kept to herself.

Sirius shrugged, “I’ll follow in cousin Draco’s path and find some hot little thing on the Hill.”

Hermione couldn’t see who it was, but a fist pounded down on the table at the man’s latest crack.

“I suspect that you came tonight to ask something of me, and if you don’t mind your tongue, you can watch whatever crackpot legislation you’re promoting collect dust on my doorstep for the entirety of the next Congress.”

Hermione hid a smile. Lucius Malfoy, coming out to defend her and Draco? She could get behind that.

“Fine! Give a man a little warning that Draco’s into fraternizing with the underaged enemy before Christmas dinner next time, okay?”

“Enough! She’s no one’s enemy,” Columba replied, eyes narrowed at Sirius. “And we’re not your cousins.”

“Once removed,” Sirius muttered, as though that made a difference.

Everyone laughed at the remark, and it was like the conversation never happened. That had Hermione wondering how often blowouts like this occurred at Malfoy-Black events. With the noxious mixture of personalities seated around the table, she guessed rather often.

The rest of dinner was as uneventful as it could be, and Hermione was grateful to slide into the background and allow herself to be entertained by Brax.

“This was lovely, dear,” Orion smiled. “Thank you for such a delicious meal!”

Everyone chimed in besides Sirius.

“Thank you, father, for hiring someone to cook for us. I appreciate your commitment to serving edible food this year,” Sirius nodded.

“Out!” Walburga screamed, pointing to the hallway of horrors. “Out.”

“Son, go wait in the parlor or get the hell out of our home,” Orion sighed. So far, Hermione had seen little personality from the man outside of constant sighs. It was a miracle that Regulus turned out as well as he did from what she could tell.

Sirius smiled lazily before walking out of the room with the wine glass he’d taken from Maryam’s table setting since she wasn’t drinking.

“He gets more awful every time I see him,” Bellatrix frowned. “If anyone seriously believes that marijuana is harmless, they haven’t met Sirius.”

“You’re not wrong, my girl,” Cygnus agreed, raising a glass towards his oldest daughter. “The boy is touched in the head.”

Regulus just took another sip of his drink. Hermione couldn’t blame him.

“Cigar, gentleman?” Orion asked as they all stood up from the table, receiving nods from the men.

Columba flitted over to Hermione.

“You go,” she instructed her brother before lowering her voice. “We need to just get this over with, okay?”

Draco pulled Hermione to his side, pressing a kiss to her lips for the first time in the presence of his family. Even without looking, she was certain there were eyes on them

“Text me if you need me,” he asked, a frown on his face at the thought of being separated.

“Trust, Draco! Trust,” Columba rolled her eyes before linking elbows with Hermione.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“Just a bit of a ladies tiff,” Columbia replied. “Just keep drinking and stay with Maryam and me… you’ll be fine.”

“I’m assuming Draco will have it a lot worse than I will?”

Columba’s laugh was scary. “Absolutely, but thankfully Sirius is there to soften the blow.”

“He doesn’t do much to make himself likable.”

“That’s his brand, walk in, blow special occasions up, then ask my daddy for something.”

“That’s really why he’s here?”

Columba nodded as they walked into a new sitting room that was already full of the other women, now broken off into small groups to talk. Hermione’s stomach clenched.

The groups all seemed like equally poor options when you considered joining Maryam, Andromeda, and Bellatrix or Druella, Walburga, and Narcissa.

Draco’s sister took the decision away when she moved to sit near Andromeda.

“We were wondering if you’d join us,” Bellatrix smirked.

“Just had to run to the powder room,” Columba smiled primly, pulling up two comfortable, yet heavy chairs for her and Hermione.

“So… how are things with our Draco, Hermione? I have to admit, we were a bit shocked when we heard he was dating,” Bellatrix asked.

Hermione nodded, plastering on a smile that she knew would become a very well-used expression in the days ahead.

“I can’t say I expected it either, honestly. We kept running into each other, and he eventually invited me to dinner.”

“Oh? Where did he take you?”

“His home,” Hermione smiled. “We didn’t want to attract attention.”

“He’s always been a good boy,” Andromeda smiled softly. “How are you liking DC?”

“I love it! There’s always something to do. I could spend all of my free time at the museums and art galleries and never be bored.”

“I miss it,” the woman sighed wistfully, and Hermione’s heart clenched.

Knowing not to show how much she knew, Hermione just nodded.

“You can come visit any time,” Hermione replied.

Bellatrix scoffed, “Her sister lives out there, girlie, I think she’d come stay with me before knowingly visiting Draco’s den of sexual sin.”

“Really, Aunt Bella?” Columba asked. “As though you were abstinent before marrying Uncle Roddy.”

The woman looked shocked at the normally mild-mannered Columba’s snippy remark.

“Rodolphus is the same age as me, not old enough to be my father!”

“As though that changes anything. You know how tough the next few months are going to be, are you going to help or harm the family?”

“Don’t you talk to me like that! How dare you insinuate that I’ll be anything but helpful?”

“You’re not making a good case for yourself, Bella. Columba is right,” Andromeda agreed.

Maryam remained silent, sipping on her water as though she’d experienced these fights many times before.

Bellatrix scowled, flipping her curls over her shoulder.

“Never say I can’t put on a good face in service to the greater good,” Bellatrix simpered, plastering a smile on her face before standing up and pointing a finger in Hermione’s face. Her resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West was far too uncanny. “But I’ll be here to say I told you so when everything falls apart!”

“Go join Sirius and whine together if you must. It’s Christmas, for God’s sake!” Andromeda replied.

“Don’t you go pretending to care about Jesus now, Dromeda!” Bellatrix spat before stalking out of the room.

“I apologize on her behalf,” Andromeda smiled softly, patting a hand on Hermione’s forearm.

“No need,” Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t expect everyone to understand… you all have known Draco much longer than I have, there’s obviously going to be scrutiny when he brings someone home.”

“It’s still wrong,” Maryam chimed in for the first time. “You and Draco have a right to privacy and to not be attacked for simply being together.”

“She’s right,” Columba agreed. “We’ve got your back, girl. You’re part of our family now.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, grateful for the support of the three very different women in front of her.

“I’m going to milk these two for all they’re worth,” Maryam smiled as she looked down at her stomach and pulled out her phone.

Hermione smiled to herself, assuming that the woman was texting Regulus to see about leaving. She couldn’t blame her.

“Where do you live, Maryam?”

“Oh, we’re just down the street,” she smiled, placing her phone on her lap. “Regulus is a board member at Gringotts Bank which is headquartered here in Charlotte.”

“That’s wonderful. I’d love to get together next time I’m here,” Hermione smiled, feeling a bit uncomfortable at putting herself out there. Female friendships were never going to come naturally to her, but she wanted to try.

“Put your number in,” Maryam nodded, and Hermione had to hide the dorky smile that threatened to break out on her face. Maryam was the cool, pretty girl who never gave Hermione the time of day in high school, much like Pansy.

“Shafiq?” Hermione asked as she read the contact name Maryam Shafiq-Black that Maryam had put into her own phone. “As in Ambassador Shafiq?”

The woman let out a soft laugh. “Yes, that’s my father… Regulus and I met at a dinner in DC, actually, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. North Carolina is much better.”

Hermione wanted to groan; she thought she’d finally met someone ‘normal’ in the family. Instead, it turns out that her father was the Iranian ambassador to the United States, who was hailed for negotiating a peace agreement between middle eastern countries. The man had been laughed at by international leaders for undertaking a seemingly impossible effort; but here they were 13 years later with fewer troops in the region than anyone could’ve imagined.

This discovery also brought up a million questions of how Lucius felt about the tie to Ambassador Shafiq and its potential impact on his presidential run, but Hermione would save them for Draco. He was the only one who’d actually consented to suffering through her thoughts and musings.

“I can see why you like North Carolina so much,” Hermione smiled. “It just feels like home somehow.”

“It really does. Oh! Looks like Reg got the message,” the dark haired beauty winked, and Hermione turned slightly to see both Draco and Regulus walking into the room.

“Aw, they left my boys,” Columba pouted. “Poor Rolf is probably getting pulled into another sham investment by Uncle Orion.”

Draco laughed as he walked up and heard that.

“My father? A scam artist?” Regulus asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I think he just wants to see how much he can get Rolf to agree to buy into. Your husband is far too soft.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Columba smiled fondly, pulling Maryam and Hermione into tight hugs. “Y’all text me when you’re home safe, okay?”

“Will do, dove,” Draco smiled, the expression only growing warmer as Hermione moved to slot herself against his side. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

Hermione nodded, putting on another pleasant smile as they made their way through another round of goodbyes. Bellatrix put on a fake, sugary sweet smile when she said goodbye to Hermione, and Draco was surprisingly restrained enough not to ask about it.

“We have to stop and say goodbye to father,” Draco said quietly as they walked down the long hallway which was even more spooky at night. There were definitely ghosts at the Black Manor.

“Of course,” Hermione replied, hiding the groan and foot stamp that so wanted to come out of her. She had always been upset over having such a small family, but if large families meant goodbyes took an hour… maybe small gatherings weren’t so bad after all.

“Headed out?” Orion asked as they walked into the room, teeth clamped on a lit cigar.

“We are, uncle. Thank you for having us.”

“Dinner was lovely,” Hermione agreed with a soft smile.

The man nodded before turning back to the liquor bottles lining the bottom shelf of the room they found themselves in. It could be described as nothing other than a man cave with the large television plastered on the wall and liquor on every available surface. Hermione would’ve judged a man his age for having such a setup if she didn’t know his wife. Orion Black deserved whatever he wanted after putting up with Walburga for over 40 years.

“Oh, my dear girl! Leaving so soon?” Abraxas asked, standing up from where he’d been chatting to Cygnus.

“We are,” Hermione smiled. “It was lovely to meet you, sir.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” the man replied, wagging a finger and looking very much like a caricature of himself.

“Brax,” Hermione corrected, receiving a tight hug in reply that had her eyes watering up. There was a lot of love in the gesture, and she appreciated it.

“Sweet girl, you let me know if my grandson isn’t treating you right and I’ll take care of him. You hear?”

Hermione laughed, running a finger under her eye quickly to catch any unbidden tears at the man’s show of love, however theatrical it was.

“I will, but he’s a good one. You raised him well.”

“We really did,” Abraxas replied proudly.

Cygnus beckoned them over with a finger.

“These old bones can’t get up, give your old man a hug down here,” he asked.

“I think your problem is more whiskey than old bones, brother,” Abraxas replied with a laugh.

“Lovely to meet you, dearie. Come visit soon with Draco, you can meet our mostly well-mannered furry family,” Cygnus smiled.

“I’d love to, sir,” Hermione replied, truly meaning it. If they had as many animals as Draco said, she’d be there in a heartbeat.

“Does anyone know where father is?” Draco asked.

Abraxas shrugged, and Draco ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I’m sure you’ll find him on the way out,” Abraxas replied.

Hermione seemed to be the only one who didn’t understand the ominous reply.

They left the room at that, and Hermione felt so close to freedom that she could let out a loud whoop.

Once they had their jackets back from the still creepy and overenthusiastic Mr. Kree, Draco opened the front door to the house.

“Damn,” he muttered, as they both caught sight of Sirius and Lucius in tense conversation.

“Son,” Lucius called, not even looking up from their conversation.

As Lucius was clearly certain he would, Draco walked over to the pair.

“Yes, father?” Draco asked.

Hermione was grateful that it wasn’t that cold out, but also wondered how Lucius was standing in his suit jacket and nothing more. Maybe he really was a robot like the socialist corner of Twitter theorized.

“Sirius has something he’d like to say to you.”

The expression on Lucius’ face could only be described as akin to a lion about to pounce on its prey. Though, in this instance, a snake would be more apt.

The black-haired man stamped his booted foot in clear frustration before speaking.

“I apologize for my comments about your girlfriend and won’t say anything to James or others about your relationship.”

The way that Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, it was a marvel anyone could understand him.

“I think you ought to be saying that to Hermione,” Draco replied.

Lucius’ grin only grew wider.

“Fuck’s sake,” Sirius groaned before shaking his head. “Hermione, little girl, I’m not going to say shit to your boss. Okay? I think you’re making a mistake involving yourself with this black hole of a family, but who am I to tell you what to do?”

“Thank you for your discretion,” Hermione nodded primly despite the man’s awful apology, drawing a shockingly approving smile from Lucius.

“Goodnight,” Lucius said next. “Miss Granger, we’d love to have you over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Sounds lovely,” Hermione smiled. Who was she, being all prim and proper? Pansy really was working her hard in the etiquette department.

“See you tomorrow, father,” Draco replied, ignoring Sirius as he walked Hermione to his truck and helped her inside before handing her his keys. “I’ll be right back, you can start the car.”

Hermione felt very much like a child as Draco walked back to the pair. She couldn’t even roll down the window to listen without them noticing.

The conversation didn’t last long, but Hermione could tell that the blonds were threatening Sirius by the way he held his hands up in front of his body.

She tried not to be angry at the way she was handled when Draco finally got into the car and drove off. Despite her half hearted attempts to calm down, she was fuming.

“And?” she asked impatiently, drawing a raised brow from Draco. The man was far more even keeled than her in every situation, and in this instance, that only served to piss her off more.

“Pardon?”

“Is there a reason you left me in the car like a wayward child?”

Draco didn’t relent or apologize.

“I was making sure we were perfectly clear about what would happen if he reneged on his promise, Hermione.”

“Why couldn’t I be there for that?”

“It was not a conversation you needed to be privy to.”

“This isn’t the 1740s, Draco!” Hermione replied, realizing she sounded far too much like Walburga Black for her liking. “I can handle tough conversations.”

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, Hermione, but I’m not going to apologize for handling family business the way I felt appropriate.”

“You made me look incompetent.”

Draco’s raised eyebrow had to be the most frustrating expression in his arsenal.

“I’m sorry that you’re upset, Hermione.”

“But you’re not sorry that you upset me.”

He slapped a hand on the steering wheel.

“My father was literally trading Sirius’ silence for a promise of putting a bill that your boss is introducing on the floor, Hermione. I am not going to have you be privy to conversations that could tank your career or put you in front of the Ethics Committee right alongside my father and I.”

Well, when he put it like that… she felt like a temperamental brat.

“Maybe you could lead with that next time?” she asked lightly, not willing to concede just yet.

Thankfully, Draco just laughed.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” he grinned, shaking his head.

She threw her hands in the air, “You made me mad.”

“You don’t say,” Draco chuckled again, pulling Hermione’s hand into his and pressing a kiss to it. “Everything I do is to protect you… even if it annoys you, just try and trust me. Okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. That’s all I can ask for.”

xxxxxx

**January 1, 2019**

Hermione was elated to be back to DC after a few days in North Carolina. Despite Lucius’ ominous dinner invitation, they’d had a lovely, mercifully uneventful night at the Malfoy’s Charlotte home. Lucius seemed to hate her less and had even called her Hermione the entire night. She was a pragmatic woman who appreciated progress. And she even got to see the gnomes and bond with Narcissa over their creepiness. All in all, there was no guilt to be felt over spending time in Charlotte instead of Seattle.

She was always the kid who enjoyed the first day of school, and the first day of a new Congress felt full of the same excitement. The members would be sworn in on January 3, and then they’d be off to the races. A new Congress, a presidential election… everything felt like it was coming to a head, and Hermione thrived on that sort of intellectual chaos.

Here she was, a new woman in 2019.

Hermione Granger, Legislative Correspondent for Chairman James Potter. It had a nice ring to it, and she knew she’d be dressed to the nines for her new job.

Draco’s Christmas gift had been a beautifully wrapped box that held a small card with the words ‘good for one shopping trip’ on it in his beautiful cursive scrawl.

At her confusion, Draco shared that he wanted her to have a wardrobe that she felt confident in going forward. Her new job meant meeting with important government officials and lobbyists, and despite her inclination to tell Draco no, she relented. It really was a thoughtful gift that felt far different than if he were to have just handed her a Nordstrom’s gift card.

After utilizing Columba’s gift of an appointment with her hairstylist, they headed to SouthPark, which was allegedly the best mall in Charlotte.

Draco, the shameless man he was, had made her pinky promise to let him buy her whatever he wanted and trust that his yes was a yes. He’d also told her he was willing to log into his bank account app and confirm he had enough money to spend on her, but she only rolled her eyes at that. His smug sarcasm was too much sometimes.

Hermione, as stubborn as she was, knew that she needed new clothes. She’d drawn the line at Draco’s attempt to purchase her a fur coat, and even entertained his boisterous laughter as she argued against him that, no, eating meat and wearing fur were not the same! For that quip, she felt far less guilty foisting all of her bags off on him to carry.

So here they were, back in DC and taking their first morning walk of the new year.

“Think the Lululemon in Georgetown is open today? I’m buying you all new loungewear,” Draco asserted as they walked up Pennsylvania Avenue towards the Capitol.

“Why?” Hermione laughed.

“Those pants… they seem to have turned my eyes into magnets that are attracted to your lower half,” Draco smirked, very unsubtly looking down at Hermione’s backside.

She laughed, long past the point of blushing, “Draco!”

“Can’t blame a man for checking out his gorgeous lady,” he shrugged, taking Hermione’s hand into his own.

“I admit these are pretty comfortable… but Lululemon should be under Congressional investigation for charging $100 for a pair of pants!”

“I don’t see a crime other than you looking far too beautiful after six hours of sleep and two bottles of wine.”

“You are in a mood!” Hermione giggled, squeezing Draco’s hand from where it was intertwined with her own.

“I’m just happy. We have so much to look forward to this year,” Draco smiled.

Hermione couldn’t disagree with that.

“Oh, it’s icy!” she squeaked as they got closer to the east front side of the Capitol. Her shoes had slipped a bit, but thankfully Draco was there to catch her. Walking home with a bruised backside was not on her agenda for the morning.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” Draco replied. “Let’s turn around… there are far too many tourists here.”

“Oh?”

Draco nodded. He wasn’t wrong; the entire Capitol plaza was full of early morning joggers as well as families who were using selfie sticks to try and snag the perfect family photo with the Capitol in the background. Hermione and everyone else who worked on the Hill could tell them it was an almost impossible feat without a professional camera.

“It’s flu season… I don’t like getting too close to strangers, even though I’ve been vaccinated.”

Hermione wouldn’t make fun of him for that; it kind of made sense. If he got sick, she couldn’t even imagine the backlog he’d face, especially now that he was ranking member on an exclusive House committee.

“We can head back now,” Hermione agreed. “Can we grab coffee at Firehook?”

“Of course, sweetheart. One of the peppermint brownies you like, too.”

“You know me too well, it’s kind of weird.”

“Why?”

“Well, you go from not knowing anything about someone to knowing the most obscure bits of them. It’s weird,” Hermione shrugged.

“Excuse me?” a thickly accented male voice asked from in front of them. It looked to be a family decked out in Tar Heels themed winter wear. Shit.

Draco didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand as he replied in his Congressman voice.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I told you it was him, mama!” a redheaded teenager interjected with a proud smile as she pulled her hat down further over her ears.

“Well, as our Lola said… we thought that might be you, Congressman. We live in your district and are huge fans of your work,” the dad replied, sounding like he was talking to Mick Jagger and not a member of the government.

Draco smiled as he gently let go of Hermione’s hand to greet his constituents.

“Thank you all so much,” Draco replied, sounding appropriately gracious. “Where do y’all live?”

Hermione tried not to look on awkwardly as they interacted, knowing she’d really have to get used to this type of interruption.

“We’re in Dilworth, been there for about twenty years now. I’m glad we ran across you, though. Your office shared that you’ll be rather busy this week and won’t have time for a meet and greet.”

Draco nodded, looking properly remorseful. “Yes sir. Unfortunately, swearing-in keeps us rather busy. I’d love to take a photo with you all now, instead? A bit different than my normal suit and tie, so I apologize for that.”

Everyone laughed as though he’d told a Dave Chappelle-level joke. Hermione had to smile at the way he enraptured people by solely existing. She could certainly relate

“Oh, of course!” the mom smiled, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket.

“I can take it,” Hermione smiled, stepping up to grab the phone. She was used to taking photos of folks with her boss, so this was no different.

Also… resident photo-taker was the role of the non-famous partner in a relationship with a prominent figure, no?

“Thank you,” Draco smiled warmly, and so did the others. She noticed that he didn’t say her name, clearly not wanting to get it out into the open just yet. Draco’s social media thirst squad was certainly savvy enough to dox her with or without a unique name, but she appreciated his efforts.

They took a few photos, one with the whole family then one with just the parents and then the two children. Draco and Hermione were gracious through it all.

“Oh, thank you, Congressman Malfoy! You are far too kind,” the woman smiled.

“The kids will have a great story to tell when they head back to school,” the father agreed.

It was the Hallmark family moment Hermione had never had. They really were sweet.

“Thank you for letting us take up your time, ma’am,” the woman said to Hermione as they started walking away.

“No worries, enjoy your trip!” Hermione smiled.

Draco was quiet as they walked, and as soon as they were far enough away, Hermione spoke.

“They were so lovely, you just made their entire trip before it’s even started.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m just surprised they recognized me, but I’m glad they did. Thanks for your patience.”

“I’m gonna have to get used to it, hm?” she shrugged. “Besides, people save up for years to go on trips. If the highlight of it is meeting you, I’m not going to ruin that.”

“My sweet girl. The random interruptions are annoying sometimes, but mostly innocent.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled. “I know you were kidding when you mentioned a brownie, but I can’t stop thinking about it…”

Draco just laughed and picked up the pace.

xxx

It was only later, when the fire was crackling and they were cuddled up on Draco’s couch that his work phone rang.

All Members of Congress and their staff were provided a second cell phone since the House and Senate didn’t allow their servers to be accessed by private, personal devices. Hermione had found it extremely exhilarating at first to walk around with two phones, but now?

Now it was just frustrating and an extra weight in her hands or bag wherever she went.

Draco, like most members, was paranoid about who he gave his personal phone number out to, so Hermione guessed that it was a reporter or a staff member who was calling him.

“Gemma?” Draco greeted, putting the phone on speaker as he sat up. “No, no, it’s fine… Blaise is out of pocket today.”

“I know, it’s a holiday, so sorry for calling Mr. M! I just wanted to let you know that there was a post from some folks you met today shared on Instagram and Facebook, both on public accounts.”

Gemma was a trusted staffer who’d been with Draco since she was a press intern. She’d worked her way up and assumed the role of communications director five years ago when Draco’s first CD became pregnant and left the workforce.

“Okay? What did they say?” Draco asked, rubbing a hand on his chin in frustration or impatience or both. Hermione’s money was on both.

“I just screenshotted it and sent it to you,” she replied.

Draco took his phone back into his hands from where it was resting on his blanket-covered thigh to check out the text.

“Thanks, Gemma. Just leave it alone and text me if you get any press requests.”

“Of course! Have a good day, sir,” the communications director chirped.

Instead of being mad or anxious when he hung up, Draco started laughing and slapping his legs like he was in a slapstick comedy.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, slapping his calf gently to grab his attention.

Instead of replying, Draco just shoved his phone in her hand, now at the point of crying from laughter.

There was a screenshot of the photo Hermione had taken of Draco with the entire family and a very long Facebook caption to accompany it. Hermione squinted as she read the words of Reginald Cattermole.

**_God has His hand on our family trip! We arrived in Washington, D.C. after a flight delay late last night and took a cab into the city while fireworks blasted over the night sky… Our hotel is clean and had a continental breakfast that we all enjoyed this morning. The kids enjoyed the waffle maker - thanks to Kylie from the Hyatt Place staff for helping them out!_ **

**_While on a long walk around the city, we stopped at the Capitol. Not even the cold could keep us away!_ **

**_After taking a few family photos, Lola saw a great-looking couple from a while away and pointed them out to my Mary Lou thinking that it was our beloved Congressman Malfoy. Despite Mary Lou’s wishes, I called out to him! It was indeed Congressman Malfoy, and he couldn’t have been nicer. He and his lady entertained us for a while, and she took the photos I’ve shared here. Thank you to Congressman Malfoy and his lovely lady (fiance?) for making this Charlotte family’s trip to Washington so special. We’re off to the American History Museum now and will report back later… Happy New Year to all!_ **

Hermione joined him in his laughter.

“Do people really write posts like this?”

Draco wiped his tears, “I guess so. The good news is that most people won’t make it through that long post to get to the part about us.”

“How did Gemma find it?”

“It’s public on Facebook and Instagram. Tagged me on both… hopefully anyone who’d normally care is too hungover to look into it.”

Hermione smiled in reply, letting it sit out there until Draco’s personal phone rang a few hours later. They’d ordered pizza, so she assumed it was here.

“Shit,” he groaned before answering.

Guess it wasn’t pizza.

“Father…” He paused for a moment while the older man spoke, rolling his eyes and bobbing his head as he did. “Yes. Of course. We’ll be there.”

Hermione didn’t even want to ask, letting the way Draco lightly threw his phone across the room be answer enough.

Draco spoke a few long moments later.

“Father’s camp caught wind of us being seen together. He’d like us to come to dinner with his team tomorrow to discuss our plans to go public.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded, trying not to panic when Draco was clearly frustrated. “That won’t be so bad. Who’s going to be there?”

“Severus, my grandfather, and Tom.”

“Tom Riddle?” Hermione asked, eyes blown wide.

“Tom Riddle,” Draco agreed.

Now she understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :) Comments keep me going!
> 
> Connect with me at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, I believe I'm going to start updating on Sundays. That's not going to be hard and fast, but I want to temper expectations after my speedy updating at the start :)
> 
> Merry Christmas from the Malfoys, happy holidays from Hermione, lots of love from me!!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year friends!! May 2021 bring everyone health, prosperity, love and joy! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this ball of angst.. let me know your thoughts after reading! Thank you as always to Elle Morgan-Black for getting this fic where it needs to be and talking about US politics with me 24/7 to do so. You are the MVP.

**January 2, 2019**

Hermione kept it to herself, but Lucius’ demand that Draco drop everything the night before swearing-in for a campaign meeting was absolutely ridiculous. Swearing-in was always a long and taxing day, and this dinner meant that Draco couldn’t have the relaxing, quiet evening that he wanted to before getting right back into the swing of things.

Lucius was putting his own ambitions before his son, and Hermione got the feeling that this wouldn’t be the first or the last time that it happened.

As they drove to the Malfoy’s Washington home, Hermione wanted to throw up. The idea of meeting Tom Riddle and Severus Snape was absolutely terrifying. She knew the situation was bad when Draco wasn’t even consoling her; he told her he’d take care of her, but he didn’t say that dinner would be fine. She was smart enough to understand the difference and had steeled herself for it.

“So you’re certain your mother won’t be there?” Hermione asked for the third time.

Draco sighed, clearly frustrated. “No. She’s at a spouse’s reception before swearing-in with my grandmother, they won’t be back until later.”

“Convenient,” Hermione muttered. She was well and truly alone without a middling female influence.

“You need to take a deep breath, sweetheart,” Draco warned, keeping his eyes on the busy one-way street as they drove closer and closer to his parents’ home.

Hermione just nodded. He was right.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Draco said quietly as he pulled into the short driveway that came with his parents' multi-million dollar home. Hermione had to stop herself from asking if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

As usual, he walked around the car and helped Hermione out. Today, she didn’t even smile in amusement at his offer of assistance out of a small car.

Her spirits lifted when Abraxas was the one to open the door. This was as good of a start as she could’ve hoped for.

“My girl,” the man greeted, pulling her into a tight hug before nodding at his grandson. “Draco, good evening.”

Draco hugged the man. “Good to see you too.”

“Better get used to being greeted second; even being president can’t save you when you’ve a lady as lovely as both of ours on your arm,” he said to his grandson.

Hermione gulped audibly at the mention of being president. That was far beyond her thoughts, and hopefully just as far past Draco’s plans, at the moment.

“The interrogation brigade is already in the dining room. Cheap bastards, they brought a bunch of plastic-wrapped salads from Sweetgreen.”

She tried not to laugh, but she did smile at Abraxas. His attempts at levity were very appreciated.

Lucius sat at the dining room table with two black-haired men, and Hermione had a silly little thought that the darkness surrounding them was foreshadowing for what was to come.

“Ah,” Lucius stood up, nodding. Clearly, the group of men hadn’t been speaking while they waited for Draco and herself.

“Father,” Draco greeted.

The other two men stood up, and Hermione tried not to bite her tongue off as she tried to stem her nervous laughter at the sight of a very unamused Senate Majority Whip Tom Riddle.

Senator Riddle was just as unfairly attractive as he always appeared on television with fewer wrinkles than any man over 60 should have and cold brown eyes that had completed their passover of Hermione. By the way his stern expression visibly tightened, it was clear that her new dress and makeover a la Pansy didn’t impress him.

His husband, Severus Snape, was a man Hermione had only seen hovering in the back of photos. He was never the focus of anyone’s attention, and it seemed that that was where he thrived. His silky black hair was shoulder-length in a way she’d never seen a man of his age and stature wear, but judging by the dour look on his pale face, no one would ever bring that up to him. The couple looked extremely unwelcoming, which, Hermione supposed, was their goal.

“Tom, Severus, I’d like to introduce you to Draco’s... partner, Hermione Granger.”

Clearly, Lucius Malfoy had loved the way Draco described their relationship. She met eyes with Draco quickly, and by the expression on his face, it was clear that they’d both come to the same conclusion… Lucius wasn’t going to be jumping to their defense that night.

Hermione received two terse nods from the newcomers, but no greeting as they sat back down. Abraxas rubbed her shoulder comfortingly as he pushed her seat in and sat to her right while Draco sat to her left. Tom and Severus were on the opposite side of the table, while Lucius was at the head. They were even seated for a proper showdown.

She found herself wondering if this was a 3 v. 3 fight or if Lucius was going to play the devil’s advocate in the way a man like him certainly enjoyed doing. Time would certainly tell.

“Salad?” Abraxas asked with a regal tip of his head.

Hermione and Draco nodded, allowing the squeaking of the to-go salad containers to be the only sound in the room. She saw that the salad greens were kale and had a mental image of a vicious Tom Riddle ordering it just to spite them, knowing they’d eat it as to not look rude. As she flipped off the lid and noticed that everyone but her and Draco had already dug in, she stabbed a fork into the far-too-lightly dressed kale salad. They’d need a real dinner after this calamity.

“Well, why don’t we cut to it?” Lucius asked. “You clearly don’t want to keep your relationship private when you gallivant around the city and take flights together.”

“I told you that we weren’t keeping our relationship private, father.”

Snape shook his head, his wide nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Anything that isn’t a public statement is private, Draco. The only person you’re fooling with your deliberate obtuseness is yourself… and maybe the girl.”

Hermione tried not to bristle at the man’s tone. It was rich coming from him; wasn’t he the one in a relationship with another man who masqueraded as a hardline conservative?

“What would you suggest then, Severus?” Abraxas cut in before Draco could snap back at his father’s chief of staff.

The man’s voice grew slightly less chilly as he addressed his first boss. Hermione tucked that away for later; maybe Abraxas was their key here.

“I am not the millionaire matchmaker, Brax, thank the good Lord for that. But you’re either fully out to the public or you’re hiding something. If Draco chose to engage in relations with a woman his own age, we could skirt around this. But since he’s seen fit to date a child-”

“That’s enough,” Draco replied, voice tense.

Instead of backing down, Snape put on a nasty grin that made what Hermione thought to be a slightly unattractive face into a vicious one.

“Since he’s seen fit to date a child,” the man continued, “There are many reasons that you wouldn’t want to go public. Anything but an overt statement is an agreement with all of those who will believe you to be an ashamed pervert.”

“Good Lord, my boy,” Abraxas shook his head at his former staffer. “Always gotta burr in your saddle.”

Hermione had a harder time hiding her giggle at that, trying to focus on her salad while everyone else ignored the jibe. She was a northwest girl in a room of southern men.

“If I may,” Tom Riddle spoke up for the first time.

Hermione had always been put off by how attractive but unemotional the man was. She would never forget how a video had gone viral of the man being confronted by a mother at a grocery store in Georgia. He was clearly just shopping when a woman approached him, and the entire world had seen his caustic disregard of the crying, polite lady as she begged him to join the House in passing expanded health coverage under Kingsleycare. She shared that her five-year-old son’s cancer treatments were racking up bills that they’d never be able to afford, something that the legislation would help rectify.

The man had been silent as he checked the ripeness of peaches, not even flinching as one of his constituents pleaded with him and shared the tragic tale of her circumstance. The bill had eventually passed the Senate when the Democrats gained control of the chamber for a short two years, but the point still stood where Hermione was concerned. An elected official who ignored a crying mother with a terminally sick child was someone she’d never respect.

Tom took the silence of the room as permission to speak. “Public service is a sacrifice. It’s an undertaking that the five of us chose; whether by swearing an oath to the Constitution or signing a contract as staff to an elected official... It was a choice. A knowing sacrifice. You’ll hear, Miss Granger, that running for office is the product of vanity. Anyone who says so has no inkling of knowledge, of the blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice that one must undergo to put themselves on a pedestal for all to see. The scrutiny one undergoes under the bright lights with nothing to do but ask the voting populace to take you as you are is humbling for even those who enter into politics for self-aggrandizing purposes.”

The man’s dark eyes bored into Hermione’s, like he was trying to blow a hole into her head with the sheer force of will. Upstart Hill staffer that she was, she kept eye contact the entire time.

“The name Malfoy means something in America; it’s something that southerners in particular cling to, not that you would understand.”

It was hard not to flinch at his scathing dismissal of her.

“The Malfoys are a symbol of the old ways, of the values that harken back to a simpler time… their reputation is built on duty, honor, and faith. Every marriage in the Malfoy-Black family has only increased the family’s popularity. Malfoy is synonymous with patriotism; the family name is spotless. Spotless enough to allow three generations to reach the highest echelons of the United States government, with the Oval Office now within reach.

“These are good men… their wives are lovely women. And then there’s you, Miss Granger. What a surprise you’ve been. The quintessential American story, riches to rags to riches once more after you met Draco.”

“Tom,” Draco warned, but the older man only held a hand up in a warning of his own before grabbing a manila folder from the sizable pile of papers in front of him and flipping it open.

“Let’s see… Hermione Granger, born to Jillian Millen and Robert Granger. The pair were hardworking dentists, true upper-middle class Americans… paid their taxes, voted in every election, volunteered to help the less fortunate.”

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears as the man continued to pull out papers, including her parents’ mugshots from their initial arrests.

All she could do was put on her thickest pair of mental earplugs to zone out what she knew would come next and try not to sob. They performed a comprehensive background check on her. As though she was coming into their lives to ruin them. As though she didn’t tell Draco all of this already.

“I was sorry to hear about their unfortunate vices, Miss Granger… Drug addiction is the scourge of our lifetime. How tough it must have been to go through your formative years with the neglect and pain that comes from absent parents and a father in prison. These mugshots… what a pity.”

“Enough!” Draco roared in a fiercer tone than Hermione had ever heard from him.

“Son… You need to know who she is before you give up everything for her and take your family down with you,” Lucius replied, clearly on board the ‘dig into Hermione’s life and see what she’s hiding’ train.

Draco slammed a fist down on the table, sending the plastic silverware jolting in the air. Hermione had hoped that her salad would flip over so she wouldn’t have to finish it, dry pile of greens it was. No luck.

“I know who she is! We had this conversation months ago without any need for a private investigator. Hermione has been completely transparent with me regarding her family.”

Hermione had to swallow a sob at that and tried to focus on her anger rather than her mortification. These men would gladly drink her tears up if she let them.

Lucius looked aghast. Whether it was over the fact that Draco knew and didn’t care or that his grand theatrical reveal was thwarted, Hermione didn’t know. She just found herself hoping that his bulging eyes would pop right out of his handsome face.

“If you already knew, then I’m questioning your survival instincts,” Tom snapped.

“This isn’t the regency era, Tom,” Draco snapped back, placing a hand over Hermione’s in her lap and prying her fingernails away from where she’d been digging them into her thigh in an effort to stay calm and composed. “There is no expectation for Hermione to have a perfect family.”

“If anything, doesn’t it make her more relatable, not to mention admirable?” Abraxas asked before deepening his voice like a radio broadcaster. “Bright young woman struggles with adversity and her parents’ addiction only to work her way through college and into a good job. It’s the sort of ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ story everyone loves.”

It stung to know that even the kindest member of Draco’s family was thinking of her as a political pawn and attempting to fit her into the mold of Republican talking points.

“The royals… they set a precedent there,” Abraxas continued.

“The girl isn’t Meghan Markle,” Severus spat. “Draco isn’t Prince Harry. He’s the predatory Congressman son of a presidential candidate, no better than the likes of Anthony Weiner. The fall from grace would be just as monumental.”

Hermione couldn’t help but think that was a tad dramatic, especially in the man’s silky low drawl.

“Are you going to sit here pretending you didn’t date a senator?” Abraxas asked, left eyebrow raised.

“Not one who was 20 years my senior!”

“Close enough,” Draco replied. “Now, is there anything that you actually need from us other than your failed attempt at surprising me?”

“Yes,” Lucius replied with a sigh. His posture softened ever so slightly.

“Hermione, I can see that my son has stayed by your side when there are so many things about you that should have sent him running. So what I ask is that you take time this month to truly assess the state of your life and whether or not you are ready to be tied to our family. This is not a high school fling. I will not have my campaign be waylaid by silly romantic strife or drama; anything that diverts attention from my agenda will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Hermione replied in a voice that was far weaker than she wanted. This conversation had effectively doused her fiery spirit.

“Girl,” Snape said, black eyes boring into her own with extreme distaste. “I’ve been where you are. This is not fun. The prestige of events and having your name tied to a public official are not worth the hell coming your way if you have any doubts in your mind whatsoever about this… relationship. There is no hiding away and waiting for the storm to pass; you’re half his age and an underling in his place of work, on the other side of the aisle no less. Your life for the next few years will be a relentless hurricane if you go through with this, and you’re likely to lose your friends and your job along the way. Make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Hermione nodded, anger building up again to an unmanageable place. She had to speak.

“You act as though I’m a stupid child without a brain,” she replied angrily, voice shaky but strong. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Draco knows exactly who I am, and I know who he is.”

“You silly, stupid girl,” Tom chided none too gently. “You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re doing. There’s no way you possibly can. You’ve been through all of one Congressional election, and only a few weeks of it at that. I will only tell you once; get out while you can and live as any little girl would. Find yourself a nice consultant a few years down the line and forget the Malfoys ever existed.”

“This burden is more than a girl like you can bear,” the man’s husband agreed, holding up a hand to Draco and tutting when he tried to interject.

Snape then turned to Hermione, black eyes glittering threateningly. “Whether you stay with him or not, consider yourself warned: Say a word about anything that has transpired with the Malfoys, for personal gain or even just a drunken conversation in a bar somewhere, and I will take pleasure in making your life a living hell. Is that understood?”

Hermione wanted to bristle at his threats and at the way they all talked down to her like she was an unruly youth, but she was still reeling from everything that had just transpired and could only nod.

“We’re leaving,” Draco replied, pushing back from the table. Hermione tried her best not to recoil from the hand that he reached out to her. He was the only real ally she had in the room, and it was hard not to feel that he’d left her a bit undefended, especially with Severus doling out threats.

The room was silent as they walked out; no one tried to stop them. Draco had no parting shots for the men. Abraxas didn’t even reprimand the trio of terror.

It was impossible not to feel utterly alone. This was a time that she really did want someone to fight for her like she was a movie heroine. Draco couldn’t even tell them to fuck off or go to hell? Even a scoff would’ve made her feel better.

“I want to go home,” Hermione said quietly as Draco started the car.

“We are, sweetheart,” he replied, neck craned out as he checked for oncoming traffic before pulling out of his parents’ driveway.

“No,” she shook her head. “My house.”

“Hermione… we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk right now,” she replied, voice sharp and high as she clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from visibly trembling.

Draco shook his head, “Not talking will only make this worse.”

“I don’t think this can get much worse,” she replied, cursing the tear that started rolling down her cheek.

Why was it so hard not to cry when she was livid?

“Sweetheart. Grandfather is handing them their asses right now. He wasn’t going to do it while you were there, not when they were trying their hardest to get you out of the picture.”

“I’m not so sure about that. No one seemed too keen to stand up for me.”

Draco looked away from the highway for a long moment, long enough Hermione thought they may die in a fiery car accident, and wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of the shit sundae her evening had become.

“Is that why you’re upset?”

Her laugh was uncharacteristically vicious. “Partly. Would you want to go into a room and be attacked by some of the most powerful people in the world with no one to back you up?”

“Every time I walk into a room with my father he’s still the Senate Majority Leader.”

“So?”

“So I have to treat him with a deference that very few grown men on earth treat their father with. Especially in front of Tom.”

“You could’ve prepared me better for it, Draco. I looked stupid and childish. They called me a little girl, to my face.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione… I’m sorry.”

The rest of the ride home was tense and silent, and Hermione only let a sob out when she saw that Pansy was leaning against the doorframe, clearly following her location on ‘Find My Friends.’ She hadn’t even thought to let her roommate know that she was on the way home, but as always… Pansy just knew.

“Whose throat am I cutting?” Pansy asked as the car door opened, walking down the steps to meet Hermione.

Knowing just how crotchety Draco was about Pansy’s insolence, Hermione just shook her head.

“I’ll slit his. I don’t need a job,” Pansy warned. Hermione didn’t look back to see Draco’s expression, only accepting Pansy’s arm over her shoulders as they walked back towards the house.

“He hates when you do that,” Hermione shook her head, certain that Draco would stay parked in front of their house until they shut the door. Before, she always thought it was cute how he’d think that someone would jump out of the bushes and kill her on the short walk from the car to the house, but now it just pained her. Draco wasn’t there for her when she needed him most.

“Think I give a shit?” Pansy replied with a snort. “Clearly he did something, and I will quit without notice. I couldn't care less about him or my job.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled wobbly. Pansy’s coddling was rare and always made her emotional.

“Don’t cry yet! You are sober, and I have two bottles of wine for us to drink before the tears can begin.”

“I’m going to change,” Hermione muttered, taking a moment upstairs to change into pajamas and take her makeup off.

When her face was clear and her hair was back in a bun, Hermione dragged her favorite blanket downstairs like she was a little girl seeking her parents out after a nightmare. Only she was headed down to see a woman about a bottle of wine.

“Ok, let’s go,” Pansy smiled, flipping her silky brown hair over her shoulder and patting the couch. There was already a cinnamon candle going, and it was clear that Pansy knew how badly this dinner would go.

Hermione sighed as she curled up on the couch, resisting the urge to nuzzle her head into Pansy’s lap.

“It was awful.”

“Drink first,” Pansy directed, taking an instructive gulp of her own light pink wine.

Hermione followed along, taking down half the glass in one go.

“It was awful,” she repeated.

“Tell me everything.”

So Hermione did, with surprisingly few interjections from Pansy.

“Well… it sounds like it went better than I thought it would.”

Hermione snorted.

“I’m serious, sis. I thought they’d offer you money to leave the family alone. At least they’re giving you the final decision on whether or not you stay with Draco, even if they were total dicks about it. A choice is a choice, even if it feels like you’re being forced out.”

Hermione felt slightly hurt by the mere idea of a bribe; did they think she was easy enough to send away without even an offer of money? No, she decided. Lucius knew her well enough at this point to realize that she’d never accept money from them.

“So what now? They have made it evident that my very existence is repugnant, and I’m no one that they want anywhere near their son.”

“Families like the Malfoys… families like mine, reputation and duty are the only things that matter. My father asks himself the same question every time he makes a decision; will it hurt our reputation?”

“That’s ridiculous, Pansy! The entire time we were talking, they never once referenced that they were pleased to see Draco happy.”

Pansy sighed. “That doesn’t matter to them. You are an outsider in every way. You are the powder keg about to explode both their lives and Lucius’ presidential campaign. At this point, you need to think very carefully about what you want to do. If you and Draco stay together, what you’re telling them is that you are serious. That engagement and marriage and children will come next and that you’ll be a dutiful political wife.”

Hermione was too incensed to call out Pansy’s reference to what she considered ‘a ridiculously overrated musical.’

“Is this the 1700s? Like, honestly! How am I supposed to know that I’ll spend the rest of my life with Draco? I’m not a psychic. No one knows if their marriage will last. He could die. I could die. One of us could cheat. I coul-”

“Stop! Just stop. You’re not wrong. But you’re also not operating under the same mindset as these people, and that’s what you need to change if you want to stay with Draco and not lose your fucking mind. Thinking that your in-laws and their closest friends are awful people who want the worst for you is a pretty shit way to live.”

“So?” Hermione asked, chin jutted out like a petulant child.

“So you need to think through what you want to do. This isn’t a Hallmark movie. The Malfoys aren’t going to realize the error of their ways and pull you into a group hug at the town Christmas festival right before the credits roll.”

Hermione scoffed and almost spit out her sip of wine. They’d made their way through the first bottle, and her head was starting to get a little fuzzy. Clearly, Pansy had been binging movies over the holiday.

“For those of us in the Malfoy’s circle, marriage isn’t about love. It’s about duty. My parents are more loveless than a caught fish and a hooked worm, and I’ve had an entire lifetime of resigning myself to the same fate. The Parkinsons are nowhere near the Malfoys in wealth and prestige, but there’s still something to be gained from an advantageous marriage. Connections, property, seriously medieval shit that my parents think matters, but this is my life. Draco prolonged his fate for a while, but at the end of the day, he’s still a Malfoy, and he still has expectations set on his shoulders, and his parents expected him to marry ages ago.”

There was nothing to do but remain silent while Pansy drank more. The girl rarely ever talked about her life outside of quippy comments, and Hermione wanted to hear more.

“From what I can tell, Draco thought he was off the hook since he’s so much older. That’s clearly not the case. Whoever he marries is going to have to play their game… they’re not going to hold you at gunpoint until you smile at public events for the rest of your life. It’s an expectation of being with him, and you just have to ask yourself if it’s worth it.”

In her inebriated state, Hermione thought that holding her at gunpoint was precisely the sort of thing Tom Riddle and Severus Snape might do.

“No one can know if their significant other is the one!” Hermione felt the way her mouth couldn’t quite perfectly form around her words; she was well on her way to being drunk.

“All they’re saying is that you need to be relatively certain because everything that’s coming with the campaign and Draco’s career isn’t for the faint of heart. You have to be all in. You have to really love him, sis.”

Hermione teared up a bit, wine be damned. “I do! I love him… he is the only man who’s ever made me laugh and challenged me intellectually and actually made me think twice about chivalry not being awful.”

Pansy laughed loudly at that, refilling both of their glasses.

“But I don’t know. It’s not been that long, and it’s not like I have a lot of past boyfriends to compare him to. How can anyone know?”

“It’s called a leap of faith for a reason. But you either need to take the leap or be ready for someone to push you off or pull you back. There isn’t much room for flexibility here, unfortunately.”

Pansy was right. Draco was still a Malfoy. She was the new variable bucking up the immovable force that was Malfoy tradition. And she’d never ask Draco to irrevocably change his life so that they could be together. He loved his job. He loved his family. Even if he loved her… he wouldn’t drop everything for her, and she didn’t expect him to. Honestly, she didn’t want him to put his ambitions aside for her. He’d be a shell of who she knew him to be if he did.

“I wish Draco was here,” Hermione admitted, head pleasantly fuzzy and heavy as she curled up tightly against the arm of the couch.

“Call him then. I’m sure he’s losing his shit,” Pansy smirked.

“I don’t know… I have a lot to think about.”

“Better to talk to him drunk than sober, in my opinion.”

Maybe Hermione was just drunk, but… Pansy may have had a point there.

Which is how she ended up tucked into bed with a piping hot pizza and Draco trying to shove a glass of ice water down her throat.

After she’d relented and swallowed down half of the glass, he sat down. Instead of snuggling up against her, he was lounging diagonally from her, legs crossed and his whole body stiff. She hated it.

“Happy?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. She’d almost forgotten that she was supposed to be angry with him. Or at least a bit pensive over the status of their relationship.

“No,” he shook his head, his smug smirk turning into a frown. “I don’t like that you just left without allowing us to talk things through.”

“That’s hardly fair, Draco.”

“I’m not here to start a second fight, Hermione,” he replied, clearly all too happy to take on the same snippy tone she’d used.

“We aren’t fighting.”

“Oh?”

The man could be just as irritating as someone half his age sometimes.

“We aren’t fighting, Draco. I’m trying to reconcile our lives in my head.”

Draco laughed a little and it just rankled her.

“Stop!”

“I know,” he replied, a giggle in his tone. Giggle? Why was he giggling? “You’re just a bit drunk, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

“If you don’t want to talk then I’ll leave. You’re the one who asked me over.”

Draco was just as stern in his reply, and she felt herself get a bit weepy over him using that tone against her. He was never harsh with her.

“I’m just not sure what to say… tonight was tough to swallow.”

“I agree with you, I have nothing to say. They went into tonight trying to shock me by revealing your past, and fighting with them would’ve only prolonged the night. I told them that I know about your past and that it isn’t going to send me running. That’s a much clearer defense to these men than screaming at them would’ve been. You need to trust me on that, sweetheart. They know that they aren’t getting rid of you after tonight.”

“I can’t feel alone in this, Draco. I just can’t,” her shoulders were slumped in defeat, and she fought the intense desire to crawl into Draco’s lap.

“I promise that you won’t… I promise. I’ll be here to defend you going forward, and I’m deeply sorry for not preparing you better for tonight.”

“I accept your apology,” she said primly, drawing a laugh from Draco.

“You’re scrappy when you’re drunk.”

She just squinted at him; Draco was always catty at the most annoying of times.

He patted her blanket covered knee fondly, clearly trying to hide his amusement.

“Go on then, love. You look like you’ve got more to say. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. But drink some more water first, please.”

She took another sip just to humor him as well as taking a large bite of the last slice of pizza for good measure before speaking.

“Since you ask… I don’t think that anyone can be certain that they’re meant to be with someone else. There’s a reason that half of marriages end in divorce even though everyone says their wedding is the best day of their life. People don’t know they’re not meant to be together until they’re actually together. So for your father and Senator Riddle and Mr. Snape to say that I’m ruining your life and career and your father’s ambitions if I don’t know one thousand percent that we’re supposed to be together… That makes me uneasy. It also makes them sound stupid.”

“I understand,” Draco was laughing in agreement, much to her relief “Marriage is a high stakes game for normal people, and I’m under no illusions that we are anything close to normal. I wish I could tell you to take a chance on me, but that would be selfish. I love you, sweetheart. You have my heart, and I’ve lived this life long enough to come to terms with you leaving me and taking my heart with you.”

Hermione’s eyes watered, and she reached a hand out towards Draco. He seemed so far away, sitting with crossed legs on the other side of her queen bed. Thankfully, he took her hand in his own.

Draco loved her, and despite the timing, she didn’t take his admission as a desperate plea to keep her around. She wouldn’t hold it against Draco for telling her at such an inappropriate time. Not when all she really craved right now was confirmation of how much he cared, however unhealthy that might look to others.

“I’m not going to fight you. I’m not going to try to force you into this life as much as my instincts want me to. There’s too much at stake for you to be with me as anything but a completely willing partner from the start. But if you stay… I’ll cherish you every day, sweetheart. You are so precious to me. I love my job, but I’m certain that I can prove I love you more if you give me a chance. We’ll have some bad days, but hopefully the good ones outweigh them.”

Her voice was shaky, “We have a lot of bad days ahead.”

“We do. A hell of a lot of bad days are ahead. We’ll both lose friends, and there will be a lot of people who won’t understand. But I’ll fight for you every step of the way. You won’t be alone anymore, Hermione. Not if you give me a chance.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered, tears falling down her makeupless face.

“I’m scared too,” Draco said just as quietly. “I thought they were going to tell me that I needed to make an honest woman out of you, not bully you into leaving me. I don’t want to lose you, Hermione, but I know the position that this puts you in. I won’t force you to stay with me.”

“Your family loves you. They’ll stand by you even if we don’t make it. I have no one to stand up for me if this all falls apart. I could lose my job, and if I lose my job… I’ll be on the streets.”

“That won’t happen, Hermione. Even if we don’t work out, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I wish I could swear a blood oath, but all I can do is give you my word.”

“What if you lose your seat?”

“I’m not going to lose my seat, and I don’t think anyone stands a chance against my father for the Republican Party’s nomination.”

“And then you’d be in the Senate if he wins the general.”

Draco nodded, “The Senate would be easier…”

Hermione had to interject. “But you’ll have to work closely with Senator Riddle. Especially if he's the majority leader, he’ll have his thumb on your life for as long as you serve.”

The blond sighed. “I’d be lying if I told you he was easy to work with. The good news is that if father wins his race, then he’ll have to back off. He won’t want to piss the president off, and more than that, he won’t have a leg to stand on if the public accepts us.”

“He scares me,” Hermione whispered, embarrassed to even admit that.

“Then he did what he set out to do tonight. Men like him gain power by whatever means they deem necessary. He thinks you can be easily swayed because he doesn’t know you, and you showed him that you’re made of tougher stuff than that tonight. It’s a lot to ask, but if we stay together, you’ll just have to keep doing that.”

“How’s he even married?”

Draco snorted in the way that always made Hermione a bit smug.

“Tom is an extremely odd man. He had a traumatic childhood that my father and grandfather know nothing of, but it’s led to his callousness and private nature. It’s not an excuse, but it’s as much of an explanation as we’re ever going to get.”

“So… how’s he married?” Hermione asked again.

“Like attracts like. Both Tom and Severus would find more joy witnessing the murder of an adversary than the wedding of those they love. Well, Tom would be more likely to coordinate a murder than watch one, but that’s besides the point.”

“Not to rub salt in the wound, but maybe I’m just too young to remember… Did they really catch no flack when they announced their marriage? I can hardly believe that a gay, Republican couple didn’t set people off in 1990s Georgia.”

Draco shook his head. “It was the 90s. No smart phones, no social media… They couldn’t even get legally married until a few years ago. By then, enough time had passed that no one cared anymore. Tom has never made a move without ensuring that it won’t foil his next steps. His ambitions begin and end with becoming Senate Majority Leader. When father told him he was running for president, the man laughed and said that presidential aspirations are the folly of the vain.”

Hermione laughed loudly at the thought of Lucius’s anger over Tom’s subtle, chastising response to something the blond man certainly thought he’d be applauded over.

“He isn’t wrong,” Draco continued. “The power of the Senate Majority Leader is unmatched. The president has the final signature, but the Majority Leader chooses what legislation to actually take up. Tom is a smart man, and he has bided his time and formed tight relationships inside and outside of the Capitol while father’s been at the helm. He’s set himself up well for a long reign, provided we keep the chamber in upcoming elections.”

“That seems like a sad life,” Hermione frowned. “He cares more about power than love… I hope he doesn’t come to regret it.”

“Tom and Severus have found love, however cold and unappealing it seems to warm-blooded humans like us. Unlike him, I can promise that I’ll never hide you away, even if it’s politically expedient. You are my partner, not someone I fear to be a political liability.”

“Even though I am,” Hermione smiled weakly.

“Even though you are,” Draco replied kindly, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s hand that he’d clasped in his own. “I don’t know what is to come, which is why I’m not going to sugarcoat it or blame you if you leave. Just know I love you, and I’m not going to leave you to weather this storm alone. Now… why don’t you go to sleep? We can continue this conversation tomorrow when you’re sober.”

Her normally racing mind was slow, and she knew that it was dangerous to weigh Draco’s proclamation of love in her ever-growing mental list of reasons to stay together. It was far more nuanced than him simply having feelings for her; this was her life. She had no fortune, no family name to rest on, and she was completely dispensable at work. Congressman Potter may see her as a valuable asset in the office now, but she wasn’t vain enough to think that she couldn’t be replaced with the next hardworking college graduate who walked in the door. Love wasn’t enough to throw her life away, even though she’d join a long line of foolish young women who’d done exactly that.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Thank you for coming over tonight… Hopefully my brain feels a bit less scrambled in the morning.”

“Alcohol will do that to you,” Draco laughed. “Tomorrow will be a long day, but I’ll text you when I’m leaving the Capitol.”

“Okay,” she smiled, feeling guilty at the reminder of Draco’s early morning. “I’m sorry for keeping you up, I know you have a long day tomorrow.”

Draco held a large hand up, “Don’t apologize, Hermione. I care more about your feelings than getting eight hours of sleep.”

The man sighed loudly as he stood up, and Hermione raised an eyebrow in question at the noise.

“I hear the TV blasting, which means Pansy’s still up. I’ll let her say her piece, you just stay up here and save yourself. Okay?”

“Bye,” she laughed, waving to him as he grabbed the pizza box, shut her lights off, and headed downstairs. Pansy would likely threaten her boss, which would only cause him to grow more frustrated with her. But honestly… Draco deserved a little heat after the night she’d gone through. So she slept without worry for the heated conversation that was taking place downstairs.

xxx

**January 4, 2019**

It was only two hours into her first work day of the year, but Hermione was already relishing the freedom that came with no longer being tethered to the front desk of her office.

The only trouble so far was her proclivity to immediately reach for the office phone every time it rang, but that was more of a joy than a hardship to undergo. She was finally scooching her way up the totem pole.

Colin Creevey, their new staff assistant, was a bubbly, fresh-faced boy who would be knocked back down to earth just like Hermione and everyone else who came to DC with a dream and hope to enact change. But until then, Hermione would do what she could to help him settle into the role, especially when his success meant that she could solely focus on her new role as legislative correspondent.

“How was your break, Hermione?” Tonks asked with a smile.

“It was nice,” Hermione sighed. “A bit weird, though, not checking my phones 24/7 thinking I’m going to miss an email.”

“That will never get easier,” Tonks laughed. “I feel phantom vibrations all of the time, but I’ve gotten to the point where I realize that I need to take time for myself and not feel bad about it.”

“I need to get better at that. How did you celebrate?”

“Oh, just my pops, mom and me as usual. Lifelong party of three.”

“That’s so sweet,” Hermione smiled, tamping down her curiosity on the family dynamic that Tonks always floated but never elaborated on. “They live here, right?”

“Yep,” Tonks smiled. “They’ve lived in NoVa their whole life.”

“I’m sure it’s great to have him so close by… makes it a bit easier to see him when times are so hectic.”

“You’re telling me!” Tonks agreed. “Especially now when the bossman is stepping into his role as E&C chair, I have no idea what’s ahead.”

“Same here… hopefully it’s smooth sailing,” Hermione smiled, never feeling comfortable with anything edging on gossipy conversations when their office was so open.

“Sorry to bug you,” Colin squeaked, walking into the back office with a wide eyed stare.

“What’s up, bud?” Tonks asked with a sweet smile.

“Remus called… he needs someone to bring Ja- Mr. er… Congressman Potter a phone charger and iPad from his office. He’s at a committee meeting.”

“So bring it to him,” Penelope yelled from her desk, not standing up. Leave it to the scheduler to be surly as always.

“I can just go into his office?” he asked in disbelief.

Hermione stood up, “I can show you how to get to the hearing room, I’m sure you’ll be heading there quite a bit going forward.”

“Thank you, Hermione!” he sighed, right on Hermione’s heels as she went into James’ office to grab the requested items before walking out into the hallway at a fast clip.

“No problem. I know it’s a lot to learn,” she smiled. “You did the right thing, asking for help.”

“I don’t want to annoy anyone, but I don’t want to mess up!” he replied.

That was a conundrum Hermione knew all too well after a year of working on the HIll.

“It’s better to ask too many questions than do something wrong, no matter what you’ve been told about independence and self-sufficiency in college. Up here, any mistake could prove a scandal for the Congressman, so I always err on the side of caution.”

Colin just nodded seriously, “Thank you, Hermione. You’re already saving my life.”

She didn’t reply, just focusing on not tripping in her heels after a few weeks without wearing them regularly.

“You wait out here, I’ll run these in,” she directed. The last thing they needed was for Colin to interrupt the first full Energy and Commerce Committee meeting of the year and piss Remus or James off.

It was Colin’s first day, so she was happy to take the heat if there was any for how long it took to respond to Remus’ request.

Walking into the full room, the first thing Hermione noticed was Draco in the top row of the dais seated directly to the left of her boss. Ranking Member Draco Malfoy certainly had a nice ring to it.

It was hard not to trip while walking up the steps on the left side of the room. Draco’s eyes were tracking her so intensely that she could feel his heated gaze without even looking at him.

Remus and James didn’t notice her, so she walked as quietly as she could behind the top row of seats and placed the iPad and charger on the long wooden table that served as the desk for the most senior members of the committee.

“Oh, thank God,” James groaned as he looked up from the stack of papers in front of him and noticed the goods now in his possession. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied quietly, grateful to find that his microphone was off while a staffer nanded out packets of paper to the Members. It really was like the first day of school around here.

Draco winked at her as she walked by, a move that seemed all too obvious to her. Regardless, she was smiling like an idiot as she walked out to Colin.

Draco had come over after swearing-in the previous night, and Hermione had felt much more prepared to have a serious conversation with him when sober.

She remembered everything that’d gone down while she was drunk, but being able to look at Draco with clear eyes and have him tell her he loved her was the reassurance that she needed to tell him just how much she cared about him. Nothing had changed, not even with the threats of 60-year-old men who felt the need to treat a 22-year-old girl like garbage.

She still hadn’t told Draco she loved him, even if she knew it was true. The timing didn’t feel right, honestly, not when there was so much ahead of them. A conversation with James and Remus. Lucius’ announcement. Sharing their relationship publicly. She needed to make it through the impending conversation with her boss before she professed her love to him; there was too much on the line there for her to let him fully into her heart just yet.

Not surprisingly, Draco was sure enough of himself to not look dejected over her smiling instead of responding with the desired three words, which was just another check on the ever-growing ‘Draco Malfoy is the perfect man’ list.

“All good?” Colin asked as Hermione walked out of the hearing room. She’d made sure to walk in the attractive way that Pansy had taught her to on the off chance that Draco was watching her leave. Knowing him… he’d definitely kept his eyes on her. That had her smiling even more stupidly.

“I’m great,” Hermione grinned sunnily. “The hearing rooms are like landmines, though, you need to be quiet and decisive in navigating them. Members are set up in three long rows in the E&C hearing room, and Congressman Potter will always be at the center of the top row since he’s chairman. That just means that you’ll have to be really careful when bringing him things, or try and have another staffer meet you on the side of the room so you don’t need to walk into the middle of a hearing or meeting. The last thing you want to do is trip and have C-SPAN capture it for all to see.”

“Got it,” Colin replied, eyebrows scrunched as though he was trying to imprint the information in his head. He looked far younger than a recent college graduate had the right to with floppy golden blond hair and innocent hazel eyes. “Embarrassing myself on TV sounds like a nightmare.”

“Of course,” Hermione pulled her hand up to her face when she felt one of her phones vibrate.

**Draco: You look beautiful today.**

Hermione had to hide the giggle that threatened to come out of her at Draco’s uncharacteristically boyish text.

**Hermione: Thank you :) I thought I may trip walking up and down those stairs.**  
**Draco: You navigated them like a champ, especially in those heels. And that dress…**  
**Hermione: Down boy. You’re in a professional meeting, Mr. Ranking Member.**  
**Draco: Your boss talks enough for the both of us; I don’t think anyone will notice me daydreaming.**  
**Hermione: Well, our new hire is looking at me like I’m a loon. Try to avoid that on your end (Moody’s always watching you…)**

“That was so cool!” Hermione jolted as the boy tried to start another thread of conversation. “I could only see the top row, but Mr. Potter and Draco Malfoy and Alastor Moody were all in there! I feel like I’m working on a movie set or something!”

Hermione laughed a bit, “You’ll get used to it, but you’re right… being around elected officials is definitely a bit jarring.”

“Wow… I wonder if I’ll get to meet Speaker Dumbledore and get a photo with him!”

Colin’s gaze was too innocent for her to speak as sternly as she wanted to. Honestly… this wasn’t a comic con; it’s Congress. She’d never understand staff and interns stopping Members for photos.

“No, absolutely not. Everything you do is directly tied to Congressman Potter, so asking another member for a photo is a huge no.”

The boy blew out a gust breath. “Well, when you put it that way, I don’t even want to go to happy hours! The last thing I need is to get drunk and make a fool of myself...”

“It’s not that serious,” Hermione smiled, realizing in that moment that she was reassuring herself as much as Colin. “Just put your head down, work hard, and always represent Congressman Potter as well as you can.”

“I’ll try! Thanks Hermione… I’m so happy you’re here to help me. I think my head would’ve exploded if you weren’t here to help.”

She just laughed. If there were to be any heads exploding on Team Potter this year, she was certain it’d be her own.

xxx

**January 8, 2019**

Hermione had never been the dramatic type, but she felt soap opera level sighing was warranted at the moment.

Pansy had set up a post-work meeting between Draco and James with a vague call to James’ scheduler, Penelope, that Congressman Malfoy had an important matter to discuss with her boss. It seemed that was all the explanation they needed to get it on the books for Tuesday and set Hermione up for the most nerve wracking day of her life.

They were both uncertain of how to share that she’d be a part of the meeting, and ultimately decided to leave it as a spur of the moment happening. James was a blabber mouth on the best of days, and giving him a four-day lead time on the fact that his beloved young staffer and 40-year-old colleague needed to meet with him privately was a recipe for disaster.

So that’s why Hermione meandered that evening, knowing that their meeting was set for 7pm and that everyone from her office would be gone by the time Draco showed up.

She’d barely gotten any work done all day, but who could blame her? Ideally, she would’ve loved to have had a productive maybe-last-day of work, but it had proven impossible.

She steeled herself when the door to the office opened and Draco walked in with a pinched expression on his face. Before she could even stand up, Remus was greeting the man.

Just like they’d been forced to practice by Pansy over the weekend, Draco just nodded and smiled. She’d been a drill sergeant, and even Draco was grateful for it. Somehow, Pansy could find the perfect balance of tone and disposition in every scenario. Draco, as her boss, couldn’t ethically buy her a gift in thanks, but Hermione took care of that for the both of them.

“Actually, if Hermione’s able to join us…”

Draco trailed off in the same uncertain way that Pansy had instructed. It would force Remus to just say yes without asking any questions. Even if Draco was a Malfoy and Remus thought the Malfoys to be the antichrist, he was still a Member of Congress. The chief of staff said yes just as they’d thought, and Hermione stood up and walked over to the duo.

Like clockwork, James’ office door opened and he peeked his head out.

“Hermione, what are you still doing here? Go home!” he chastised, drawing a nervous laugh from her.

It was a bit of an awkward pause as the other three waited to see who’d speak first.

Draco took the lead, “Actually, James, I was hoping she could join us. Sorry to put this on you at the last minute.”

“Sure… sure,” James replied, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked between the pair. This was the suspicion they’d tried to nip in the bud.

Remus took his normal seat at the right hand of James’ desk, and Hermione allowed Draco to pull up a third chair before taking a seat in the more comfortable one that matched the one her chief was sat in. Draco could suffer through the discomfort of a stiff chair.

“So what brings you here?” James asked, eyes darting between the three people in front of them.

“First, I ask that you allow me to speak without interruption,” Draco said, voice a smidge icier than Hermione was sure he wanted it to be. His automatic reaction was to close himself off in the face of uncertainty, she knew, but he would need to lighten up if they were to get through this alive.

“Get to it,” James flicked a hand impatiently, drumming his fingers on his desk. He was onto them.

“Well, I’ve never had a conversation like this, so bear with me here,” Draco smiled as though he hadn’t already drilled this story into his head. “Almost a year ago, I ran into Hermione up here and realized that we’d met while she interned up here. We’d got to talking, and discovered how much we had in common… which leads us here. We’ve been seeing each other since June, and we are at the point where we find it irresponsible to keep it from you any longer.”

Hermione took a shaky breath, unable to lift her eyes from the hem of her dress to see the kind of expressions that were on James and Remus’ face.

“I understand the position that this puts you both in, ethically, socially, and personally. Not to mention the rest of your staff. But I promise you that Hermione will be treated with nothing less than the same respect and deference that I’ve shown her throughout our relationship thus far. I hope that you can continue to see Hermione in the same light, regardless of who she involves herself with romantically. She’s still the same intelligent, hardworking, kind and discreet woman she was before you learned about her personal life.”

That last bit was definitely different than what they’d rehearsed, especially the protective tone he’d taken on. But it was so very Draco, and left her feeling warm inside… for the moment, at least.

Hermione flinched at the banging of a fist on a desk and looked up to see a frighteningly stormy expression on her boss’ face.

“What the hell?” James asked, eyes darting between the pair. “She’s half your age, Malfoy!”

The mere look on James’ face had her feeling uneasy, and by the way that Draco shifted slightly in his seat, she knew he felt the same.

“I’m well aware of that,” Draco replied simply.

“Don’t get smart with me,” James spat back, fingers now drumming even faster on his desk. “You’re taking advantage of a young girl; she could be your daughter!”

“I know,” Draco nodded. “We understand how this looks, both by the nature of our age difference and our professions. That’s why we wanted to come to you.”

“Stop speaking for her!” James snapped. “That’s how men like you get away with this… Hermione? Is it true?”

She was taken aback by the protectiveness in his tone, and felt oddly touched despite the circumstance. The more she thought about it, though, James knew her as more than just one of the people on his payroll. She’d spent Thanksgiving with his family; she was friends with his own son. Clearly, she’d need to treat him in the same way she’d treat her own father if he would’ve cared enough to have this conversation with them.

“Yes sir,” she gulped, feeling nervous in front of James for the first time since the early days of her internship. “And I appreciate your concern, but our relationship is consensual. I never expected to end up in a relationship like this, but Draco has treated me well and been nothing but receptive to my worries and my needs.”

“That’s not,” James cut himself off, running a hand through his already messy black hair. “Hermione… he’s twice your age. You do realize how this will look?”

“James,” Remus warned.

The man held a hand up to stop his highest-ranked staffer. “I know, Remus. This isn’t just about work. Hermione, this is your life… you have to have thought twice about this?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling like the world was spinning a bit too fast as her boss showed more care about her life decisions than her parents ever had. How did she assure him that she was going to be just fine personally and professionally while staying with Draco?”

“I appreciate your concern,” she acknowledged first, smiling as kindly as she could. “Draco and I have had many realistic conversations about what lies ahead, but I assure you that I wouldn’t come to you and Remus if we weren’t serious about this.”

By the time she’d finished speaking, she felt a bit more like she was pleading for her parents to let her go to a party than talking to her boss, but James just nodded and turned a darker look towards Draco.

“Did you get her pregnant?” James asked suddenly, awkwardly getting into Draco’s personal space despite the fact that the blond man hadn’t stood up. Her boss’s face was still red and his fists were still clenched, and clearly they’d not calmed him down as much as she’d hoped. If Hermione didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought the man was about to punch Draco.

It was a bit shocking, given that he’d just spoken to her so kindly. But then again… was it? He clearly was protective of her like he would be if he had a daughter of his own, so she wasn’t going to fault him for it. Not when she didn’t have any parents to hold the shovel talk for her, as morbid as that thought was.

“James! Sit down,” Remus ordered, standing up and pulling the man back to his desk. Clearly, he’d had the same thoughts of violence as Hermione.

“No, no,” Draco replied, recovering from his horror much faster than Hermione, who would’ve let her boss know she was still a virgin in all the ways that mattered if she would’ve opened her mouth and let her nervous word vomit spew a bit more. He did, however, look deeply offended by James’s question.

“She’s not pregnant, but surely you know enough about my family and my values to know that if she was expecting, we’d be here sharing the news of our marriage with you,” Draco said in a tight voice.

Hermione swallowed hard at the mention of marriage and pregnancy and the reminder that his family was old-fashioned and conservative.

“Us being together - and being here this evening - was not a hasty decision on either of our parts, James. Just like Hermione told you, we are here because we respect you enough not to hide our relationship and want to give you a chance to have a serious discussion about what this means for your office.”

“You’re serious about this?” James asked, looking oddly heartbroken once again. The man’s emotions were vacillating so quickly, Hermione felt like she was watching a one-man tennis match.

“Yes sir, Draco’s right,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, trying not to let tears fall. “He’s treated me with nothing but kindness, and I wouldn’t jeopardize my job if I wasn’t incredibly serious about him. I love working for you, and take your reputation seriously, sir. I… I understand if you want to fire me. I do. Just know that my work means the world to me.”

The weight of pleading for her job broke Hermione’s emotional shield, and she started to cry despite herself.

“Shh… it’s okay,” Draco consoled quietly, grabbing a tissue from the box on James’ desk and dabbing at the never-ending flow of tears from Hermione’s eyes like she was unable to do it herself.

Once she had pulled herself together, she noticed with embarrassment that James and Remus had watched Draco consoling her with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, face red in mortification.

“You’re okay, my dear,” James smiled softly. His eyes were as fond as they always were, and that gave Hermione a bit of hope. “I’m just a bit in shock. Of all the things… I didn’t expect this.”

“I didn’t either,” she shrugged, feeling a lot calmer now that her nervous tears were out of the way. “But here we are, seven months later. It’s hardly possible to keep our relationship private for the rest of my life, and you two were the first people I felt I needed to tell.”

“Does your father know?” Remus asked Draco quietly, breaking his silence.

Draco nodded, “Yes, my parents know. Hermione stayed in Charlotte over Christmas, and she met my entire family.”

“Sirius too?” James asked.

Hermione and Draco looked at each other and then both nodded.

James snorted. “That must be why Sirius was such an ass after Christmas. Every time I asked what his problem was, he said that if he told me he’d have to kill me.”

Hermione and Draco shared small smiles at that.

“I’m honestly surprised he kept it to himself,” Draco shook his head in wonder.

“So it’s really serious…” James murmured. “I don’t know what to say. I never would have expected this.”

“We’ll think it over,” Remus replied. “You’re absolutely right about this impacting more than just you, Hermione, no matter how unfair that may feel.”

“Thank you,” Hermione nodded, looking over at Draco who gave her a reassuring nod. “That’s all I ask… I understand how hard this is. I don’t want to burden anyone or negatively impact your ability to do your job, sir.”

“Remus will kill me for saying this,” Remus groaned at James’ mention of his name. “But we love you and are so grateful for all you’ve done. Lee got sent over into the wild west of committee work so that we could give you the promotion you deserved. You’re one of the best people we’ve ever hired, and I don’t know if we’ll find anyone as smart as you again.”

“James,” Remus sighed. “You really need to watch what you say.”

“In front of these two illicit lovebirds? I’m not the one giving out juicy blackmail material,” James replied, drawing eyerolls from around the room.

“We appreciate your discretion,” Draco retorted with a meaningful glance at James.

“Of course,” the bespectacled man rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly going to throw Hermione into the fire, whatever happens.”

“I appreciate that,” Draco said, not pushing back even though James left the possibility of retribution against him.

“Now… Hermione, would you mind popping out for a moment?” James asked.

She shook her head, though images of Christmas dinner at the Malfoy were popping into her head. This wasn’t Draco’s father asking, though; this was her boss. As annoyed as she was, she had to obey his request.

“I’m going to wash up,” she smiled softly, gesturing to her face with the flourish of a hand. She’d worn waterproof mascara for a reason, but knew the rest of her makeup wouldn’t hold up as well to an onslaught of tears.

“Thanks, dear.”

The room was silent until she shut the thick wooden door with a resounding thud.

Even after Hermione had returned from cleaning her makeup-streaked face up, it took a good twenty minutes for the three men to emerge from James’ office.

She’d wondered for a moment if she should head back in, but took the fact that no one came out to grab her as her cue there.

Regardless of what people wanted to think, Capitol Hill was a gentleman’s club, and this was another example of that.

The trio was talking jovially when they finally exited, which Hermione took to be a good sign.

“Sorry for the delay, we got caught up talking,” James smiled in apology.

“No worries,” Hermione replied with a soft grin of her own, though she wanted to shake them all down and learn what they’d felt prudent to discuss without her there.

“Get some sleep, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Remus nodded, lifting a hand to wave before walking back into his office. Hermione was no fool. She knew that James and Remus would be having a long conversation once they were alone, likely prodded along by one of the many bottles of liquor in James’ cabinets.

“Goodnight,” Hermione and Draco said at the same time.

The sound of Hermione’s heels clacking was the only noise as they walked down the hall.

“Well?” she asked impatiently once they were in the elevator down to Draco’s car.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was nothing?” he asked with a small shrug.

“No.”

Did she look stupid?

Draco sighed, “James threatened to kill me if I shared our conversation, but I promise that I’d tell you if it was anything you really needed to know. They ended on an optimistic note, for what it’s worth.”

She held a hand up in annoyance as Draco left her hanging. “And?”

The man looked back at her with an eyeroll of his own as they got closer to his car.

“And I think you can feel hopeful that they’re committed to keeping you on the team as long as they can. There’s nothing ethically against a relationship with a member who isn’t your employer, as we both know, and they are well aware of that. There are obviously other implications they’re concerned about, but they realize what an asset you are to their team.”

“Thank you… I am annoyed that men felt the need to keep me out of a conversation again, but I trust that you would tell me anything that I should know.”

“Of course, Hermione,” Draco replied seriously as he started the car. “No more secrets. We’re in this together.”

“I like the sound of that,” she smiled, accepting Draco’s hand when he intertwined his fingers with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and thoughts, as always, mean the absolute world to me. Thank you so much for loving this fic as much as I do! 
> 
> I just wanted to flag that I mentioned I'll try and update every Sunday when possible. When possible being the operative term :) I want to share just as much as you want to read, so I ask that you try and be patient with me! Sending love - have a beautiful weekend, friends! 
> 
> Connect with me at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to you all for your kind messages and love! Can't say I expected a coup to disrupt my real life, but I'm breathing some fresh air today as I'm sure many Americans are :)
> 
> Now... enjoy this escape! Thank you as always to Elle for whipping this chapter into shape and being the best sounding board I could ever ask for.

**January 29, 2019**

Everything was going well, unless you factored in the crippling anxiety and paranoia that had Hermione overthinking absolutely everything that came out of her office mates’ mouths over the past three weeks.

Her already-militant perfectionist tendencies had become even sharper, not that she had known that was possible.

She had spent Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the first federal holiday of the year, working while her fellow Hill staffers were at the bar or sleeping the day away. It had gotten to the point where she was at the office even later than Remus or James, both men a bit awkward as they asked her if she planned on leaving anytime soon. They clearly felt a bit weird having private conversations with her now, something that only spurred on her workaholic tendencies in her quest to prove herself.

That led to today, four days before Lucius’ announcement, when Hermione was finally at her wit’s end.

Draco was annoyed that the only time he now saw her was when she showed up at 9pm and was so exhausted from a 12-hour work day that she fell asleep on the couch. Pansy was annoyed that she was only ever home to get clothes and didn’t respond to texts. And Hermione was even annoyed with herself for not doing more to for not doing more to prove that she was an exemplary employee before shit had hit the fan.

There was a level of panic that came with being a Hill staffer, even when you didn’t have a Congressman from the opposing party as your boyfriend. Hermione had swapped stories with Cho and Mandy about waking up at 2am in a cold sweat wondering whether or not they signed their name instead of their boss’ on a card they’d sent out for their Congresspeople or struggling to remember if they’d replied to an email from a lobbyist or forgotten to add a e-calendar invite for a meeting that they scheduled with a local interest group.

There was a lot of pressure that came with being a liaison for a Member of Congress, and if Hermione thought that being a staff assistant was a lot of pressure, that came nowhere near the stress of taking on a legislative portfolio. When anxiety over eventual public reaction to her relationship with Draco and fears of losing her job were factored in, she was close to cracking under the pressure of everything on her plate.

A knock on the glass panel that masqueraded as a wall around her cubicle shocked Hermione out of reading a PDF on proposed changes to veterans’ health coverage by the Senate’s Veterans’ Affairs Committee. She had been zoned in while reading the dense text and taking copious notes, so the intrusion had her skidding her pen across the paper. Exactly what she needed.

“Hermione,” Dorcas greeted, with the same untelling expression as always on her face.

The woman was someone that Hermione had gotten to know a bit better over the past few months, but she was rather to herself and focused on her work, which she could appreciate. Now that she was Legislative Director after Frank moved over to the committee, though, Hermione had a lot of facetime with her.

“Hi Dorcas,” Hermione smiled, turning around in her desk chair so she could fully face the brunette. The woman’s bland expression unnerved her.

“I just got a message from Nick Flamel with the Seattle Housing Authority wondering if he’d had your email address wrong. He said he hasn’t heard back from you about scheduling a meeting on their visit to DC in two weeks.”

Hermione’s stomach sank at being called out for a perceived error, but her shame was only intensified at knowing everyone else in the back office could hear the conversation.

“Of course, he messaged me an hour ago. I was checking in with Penelope to see if Congressman Potter could join the meeting before I respond,” Hermione replied, doing her best to remain calm.

Professionality was a definite work in progress; her initial reaction was always going to be getting flustered, so it took a lot of self control not to shove her computer monitor in the woman’s face to show that Nick Flamel was being a total ass by reaching out 53 minutes after sending his initial email.

Dorcas didn’t seem too impressed by that answer, and Penelope was on another call, so she couldn’t even jump into Hermione’s defense.

“They’re important; if word got back to James that we weren’t replying to them, he’d be upset. Just try to be responsive with constituent groups, okay? They’re priority number one.”

“I will,” Hermione replied, swallowing down the defensive word vomit that so wanted to spew out. How was she supposed to reply to Nick when she didn’t even know when James could join them, which was the only question in the email she’d received.

The newly minted legislative director walked back to her desk and left Hermione wanting to simultaneously cry and walk back to Dorcas’ desk and explain through blubbering tears that none of this was her fault.

But she just put her head down, got a confirmation from Penelope that James could meet with the group, and worked straight through lunch as though it was penance for the error she’d made. Only, she wasn’t even sure if Dorcas noticed that she didn’t take a break.

Someone else did, however. Hermione saw the flashing notification of a gchat, Google’s instant messaging service that she and her colleagues used. It was an adult’s AIM chat.

**Tonks: Ayo.**  
**Hermione: Hey Tonks - you okay?**  
**Tonks: Never. Dunkin in 10?**  
**Hermione: Give me 20 and I’ll meet you in the hallway.**  
**Tonks: Gorg, see you then!**

Hermione was uncertain, but intrigued about why Tonks wanted to grab coffee. Normally she’d pop over and ask Hermione in person, but this felt more secretive.

Tonks walked out first, which shocked Hermione into realizing that 20 minutes had already gone by.

She left her desk somewhat uncertainly before Draco’s exasperated voice sounded in her head, promising that the world wasn’t going to end when she took a moment to sip water or use the restroom. His snark was an unappreciated dose of reality.

“Yo,” Tonks smiled, and Hermione shot her spunky coworker a smile back. Tonks was wearing a bright purple blazer with a leather skirt, looking far more like a 90s movie star than a communications director for a senior Member of Congress. It was purely Tonks, and not even Hermione, the prim rule-following staffer she was, could knock her for it.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, cutting right to the chase.

“Oh, I’m fine. The question is what’s wrong with you,” Tonks replied with an ostentatious wink.

“Hello there, young lady,” an old man interjected, causing both Tonks and Hermione to look over at him. The hallway was full of visiting groups and lobbyists milling about, so it was easy for them to ignore him and just keep walking.

“I think he thought I was winking at him,” the older woman snorted, causing Hermione to let out a peal of laughter that echoed through the hallway and sent more startled looks their way.

“Why are men like this,” Hermione shook her head.

“If I ever find an answer to that I’ll tell you,” Tonks sighed before her eyes lit up. “Back to it! I feel a bit protective of you, Hermione, so I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice. You need to slow down or you’re going to burn out. You’ve been skipping lunch, and there hasn’t been a day that you’ve showed up after me or left before me this week. Have you even been going to your church group?”

Hermione had the decency to blush at the duly-deserved callout. Tonks’ tone was gentle enough that she didn’t bristle at her harsh words.

“No… You of all people have to understand how much there is to deal with right now. Everything else is on hold until I figure my new role out.”

“That’s not how life works! James and Remus aren’t giving up their personal lives to make sure everything at work is perfect, so you shouldn’t either. You get paid nowhere near enough to do that.”

Hermione was on board with Tonks’ intervention until this comment.

“Tonks, I am so replaceable,” she replied in a tone that was close to scathing. “James is the principal and Remus has worked for him long enough that no one will question him taking time for himself. I need to pay my dues, and that means putting aside my personal interests to get work done.”

“Getting work done and working just to look like you’re working are two completely different things. I’m not going to attribute one or the other to what you’re doing, but I just want to have a conversation that I think sometimes people are too scared to have on the Hill. Working yourself to death isn’t impressing anyone; it’s a quiet, solitary death. No one is going to applaud you for it.”

Ouch.

“I appreciate you being honest with me,” Hermione smiled a brittle little smile, knowing that sometimes the best thing to say was nothing at all.

Tonks laughed a surprisingly loud laugh at that. “No you don’t, but hopefully you do by the time you’re a washed up old Hill rat like me.”

Hermione giggled, “You’re not washed up.”

“You will be if you don’t take some time and rest,” Tonks warned. “Now, what do you want? Drinks on me.”

“Hot chocolate, please.”

Tonks stuck out her surprisingly pink tongue at that. “Really? Of all the awful drinks at Dunkin, the hot chocolate is the worst.”

“I find it’s the only thing that is palatable,” Hermione shrugged.

They walked up to the two self checkout kiosks that were set to the side of the large room, a well-hidden secret if the long, winding line of lobbyists and tourists waiting for coffee was anything to go by.

There were only two people in front of them, which was a much better alternative than the 30-person long line.

“Hermione?” a voice asked just moments after they’d gotten up to one of the touch screens.

She whirled around and was pleased to see a familiar face, though deep down she’d wished it was Draco. Not that he’d ever be caught dead in the basement Dunkin Donuts.

“Percy! Hi!” she beamed, a slight feeling of guilt rushing through her at realizing she’d been putting her first mentor off every time he asked to get together.

“How are you?” he was gazing at her as warmly as Percy Weasley could, fixing his dark blue tie that perfectly matched his dark blue suit. Was that level of monochrome even fashionable?

“Oh, I’m great! I got promoted, as you know, so I’ve just been busy trying to figure out the new role.”

“I’m sure you’re excellent,” he nodded seriously. “We should really get together, there’s so much to discuss...”

Was there? What on earth could Percy have to discuss with her?

“Of course, sorry for being so unresponsive,” she frowned. “It’s been a rough few weeks.”

She was more shocked than anyone when he patted her on the shoulder in a weirdly paternal way.

“I understand, Hermione. Just shoot me a text and we can grab coffee this weekend.”

“Ready?” Tonks turned around as she shoved her credit card into the pouch on the back of one of her cell phones.

“Oh! Tonks, this is my friend, Percy Weasley. Percy, this is Congressman Potter’s communications director, Tonks.”

“Nice to meet ya, Percy,” the woman smiled fondly, clearly noticing the way the redhead’s eyes roved over her ice blue tipped hair in clear judgement.

“You as well,” he nodded, his southern accent coming out as he adopted a completely unnecessary formal tone. “I’ll let you ladies go, see you soon, Hermione.”

She waved goodbye, and Tonks had the decency to wait until they were up at the coffee counter to speak.

“Who is that hunky carrot top?” she asked in a far quieter voice than Hermione thought possible.

“Oh, no!” Hermione shook her head, trying not to gag as she thought about marrying any member of the Weasley brood. “He’s not… unless you’re interested?”

“Hell no,” Tonks shook her head. “That’s a grown-ass man wearing his ID on a lanyard around his neck. I’m not about that life.”

Hermione laughed loudly, drawing a few annoyed stares their way.

“He’s a good person,” she defended before glancing off in the distance. “And he’s coming this way.”

“Thankfully our drinks are ready, then,” Tonks winked, grabbing their drinks before their order number was called out and guiding them on the long way back to the office simply so she didn’t have to engage in a second conversation with Percy.

Hermione felt a bit bad at dodging her first friend on the Hill, but was relieved to have someone in her corner from Rep. Potter’s office. She could only hope that that wouldn’t change once she and Draco were public knowledge.

xxx

**February 2, 2019**

Pansy had delighted in ordering a ridiculous amount of food and even more hard liquor for Lucius Malfoy’s primetime rally where he was finally announcing his run for president. The three major cable networks were running the speech, something that shocked Hermione even though it shouldn’t have. Lucius was the Republican frontrunner; she knew it, and the higher ups in the media did too. The rally also gave them something to talk about on an otherwise slow Saturday night.

“Here you are,” Pansy said, handing Hermione a ridiculously large, salt-rimmed glass that definitely was new. They did not own 64 oz. margarita glasses.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, taking a tentative sip. She shouldn’t have been surprised at how good it was.

“A Malfoy margarita,” Pansy smirked, clinking her glass against Hermione’s and almost spilling some of the concoction onto the tile floors.

“That’s tacky, Pans,” Hermione frowned.

“I’m an American, I’m entitled to tackiness at one point in my life,” Pansy shrugged. “Anyways, we have a good reason to get shit faced, and wine isn’t going to do the job quickly. This will.”

“Cheers to that,” Hermione muttered. Draco hadn’t texted her back in twenty minutes; she knew he was going on stage to introduce his father. The program was already running late, which wasn’t surprising, but it still made her nervous.

“Oh!” Pansy shrieked, spilling her drink all over the floor as she rushed to turn on the volume.

The large TV was now showing a devastatingly handsome Draco behind a podium, dressed in tightly fitting jeans and a grey winter jacket, framed by a background of American flags.

Lucius would soon be giving his speech in Freedom Park in Charlotte to a crowd of what Twitter estimated to be 35,000 people, which was about ten thousand more than what Draco had expected. She couldn’t even imagine how thrilled Lucius the attention-seeker was.

“He looks hot,” Pansy offered.

Hermione just rolled her eyes, “You’re just now noticing?”

“Blond and middle-aged isn’t my type.”

“40 is the new 30.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Pansy replied darkly. “Now, shut up! You’re the one who asked me to stay in to watch this.”

Draco’s speech was a son’s introduction of his father, filled with childhood anecdotes and lessons he’d learned from his father about duty, service, and country. He was perfectly enthusiastic, fawning and articulate, not that Hermione was surprised. He’d practiced it at least a million times for her, not to mention the times he’d had Blaise over to critique him or driven up to his parents’ home to practice with Tom and Severus. She’d not seen the men since the disastrous dinner, much to her relief. Draco could handle them himself for a bit.

Hermione’s stomach clenched as the crowd roared and Lucius walked out, pulling his son into a warm hug. She was certain that everyone could see just how close the pair was; that sort of affection wasn’t easily faked, and it was part of the Malfoy charm. An attractive, successful, tight knit family; they really were the American dream, if a wealthy dynasty was what you were reaching for.

“Here we go,” Hermione muttered, feeling much more nervous now that Lucius was up to bat.

As the elder Malfoy took command of the stage, his eyes were gleaming with a warmth that Hermione had only ever seen when he looked at his wife. In that moment, it all came crashing down on her.

Her boyfriend’s father was running for president, and she was going to be found out.

People from every corner of the country, spectators of every color and creed and ideology, would be judging her simply because of who she was dating.

She took a large gulp, and Pansy immediately took the pitcher of margaritas and dribbled more into Hermione’s nearly full glass. Clearly, her friend was determined to take them both down the unforgiving path towards blacking out. However, as Lucius got into the crux of his speech, she felt a bit more sympathetic to Pansy’s thinking.

_**“Our representative government is the most humbling, longstanding experiment in trust that this world has ever seen. From the time I could walk, I remember watching my father serve the people the great State of North Carolina. I learned the merits of public service on his knee.** _

_**“And now, as the senior Senator from the state I love, I have the distinct honor to meet with the brave men and women who lay down their lives to defend our country at home and abroad, the single mother of three who’s trying to make ends meet, and the factory worker who has long felt left behind by those we send to Washington to vote on the issues that matter to the American people.** _

_**“It’s no news to many of you that the Democrats have left those they claim to represent behind. We have lived through eight years of President Kingsley Shacklebolt, a man who has raised taxes on working families and sent health care premiums sky high in the left’s quest for socialized medicine. It’s time that we have a president who cares more about middle-class families and their concerns instead of constantly putting words in their mouth.** _

_**“I would apologize for getting political, but I see enough familiar faces in this crowd to know you all expect it by now.”** _

Hermione was surprised at the loud laughter. Lucius was… the opposite of funny, yet he’d somehow secured a laugh line.

**_“Under Democratic rule, the American dream is out of reach. They raise your taxes and sign bureaucratic, regulatory nonsense into law that makes it harder for you to do your jobs, and then wonder why small businesses have stagnated. It’s time that we put the power of the purse back into the hands of the American people, not those at the top of the food chain, and certainly not into the hands of the government._ **

**_“It’s time that we elect a president who doesn’t wield the power of the executive order like an all-too-powerful magic wand that can simply poof a new law into existence when the Senate doesn’t pass legislation taken up in the House. Last I checked, we are guided by the Constitution, not the whims of the president!_ **

**_“President Shacklebolt and Speaker Dumbledore say that they head up the party of the people; last I checked, Democrats are taking away power from you and your local government everytime they pass unconstitutional, sweeping legislation and executive orders. Our Founding Fathers did not create the federal government as a vessel to send the most power-hungry and well-connected Americans to Washington, yet that’s what the system currently serves as._ **

**_“There are some on the left who will be angry when I share this next fact with y’all, if you can believe it: America is the greatest nation in the world.”_ **

Pansy let out a loud snort and chugged almost half of her glass down.

“Fuck me,” she groaned.

Hermione felt a bit numb as the large crowd stomped and screamed at Lucius’ obvious statement. It was a Republican talking point as old as time. It would be sacrilegious for him NOT to tout American exceptionalism in his speech.

**_“America has long been the land of opportunity. A place where someone can come with a dream and spare change and pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Where small businesses thrive. Where we are proud to salute our flag and honor the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives to defend it. Where we can send our children to school and know they’re receiving a world-class education. Where we worship our God and have faith that tomorrow will be better and more prosperous._ **

**_“America is more than just another place on the map; the United States of America is the most powerful, free, God-fearing country in the world. The United States of America, despite its current leadership, is not without hope. With faith in God and a returned adherence to our Constitution, the United States will always find its way._ **

**_“I love this country, and in front of my God, my family and my beloved neighbors from the great State of North Carolina, I am proud to announce that I’m running to be the next President of the United States.”_ **

Even through the TV, Hermione could hear how boisterous the crowd had gotten at Lucius’ official announcement.

And so it began.

“So?” Pansy asked, her voice a bit gentler than Hermione had expected.

She shrugged; for someone who always had the answer, she was at a loss right now.

“What he said is not surprising. It’s just… I’ll never be able to get behind him fully,” she admitted. It felt almost… traitorous to admit it aloud. She’d not even told Draco that, although he surely suspected it.

“Can of worms,” Pansy said before miming like she was throwing away the lid of a can. “What can’t you get behind? More than that… how are you and Draco together if you aren’t able to jibe with the lukewarm shit that Lucius just said? That speech was like… Republican-lite. We didn’t even get to God or gays or guns. Or immigration. Or unborn babies. So many unborn babies to discuss.”

“I know. Believe me, Pans,” Hermione sniped back, feeling a bit guilty at her frustrated tone. None of this was Pansy’s fault. “I can’t get behind the idea that less regulation in the marketplace will increase wealth for low and middle-income people. We’ve tried that; trickdown is bullshit. There’s literally decades of economic data proving it doesn’t work.”

“And?” Pansy asked, mouth full of margarita.

“And the idea that EOs are unconstitutional is also the drivel of whatever party isn’t in power. If he’s elected, there’s no way he’s going to just not use executive orders. If one party controls each chamber of Congress, you basically have to use them or you’ll never get anything done.”

“So none of these issues seem like immediate problems. What about the first time he bashes the gays? Or talks about loosening gun regulations?”

“He’s not going to bash the gays,” Hermione shook her head. “The Supreme Court has spoken, it’s the law of the land, etcetera. That’s squared away, lucky for him and Tom.”

“I mean… Lucius still doesn’t believe gays should be married. It’s not like Roe v. Wade had them throwing their hands up and saying abortion was fine since nine old people said so.”

“I know that, Pansy. But it’s not like abortion which doesn’t impact him personally, but rallies his base. And, for the record, gay marriage isn’t an issue that sends voters to the polls. And, his only friends from what I can tell, at least, are gay. No one’s going to push when the Senate Whip is gay. No one.”

“We’ll see. Okay, back to what actually matters. You’re not marrying Lucius, lucky for you. What issues have you and Draco fought over?”

“Guns… that’s one of the only areas Draco and I have fought, actually. We can pretend like tax policy and foreign policy don’t exist for the most part.”

“Why?”

Hermione ran a hand through her tangled curls. “I mean, he believes in background checks, but won’t pass universal background check legislation because he believes states aren’t complying with the system we already have. He doesn’t want to ban assault weapons because the federal government doesn’t have a right to decide what people can and can’t purchase, whatever that means, even though we’ve had a federal assault weapons ban before.”

“So what are you going to do the first time he locks a gun up at your house?”

“Pans, he has a ton of guns in North Carolina and two in DC. He keeps them in his bedside drawer and claims that’s why he sleeps closest to the door, in case he needs to protect me.”

She shrugged, “That’s kinda hot, sis. He wants to protect you.”

“I wouldn’t need protection if we got guns off the street and had more fervent checks!”

“So it could be worse,” Pansy clarified.

“I mean, we have only skimmed the surface, but on issues I’d kill and die for… it could be worse.”

“I would kill and die for nothing,” Pansy shook her head before cocking it to the left. “Well… I would probably kill a bitch for a Himalaya Birkin bag.”

“That’s sad.”

Pansy just shrugged, “Hopefully marrying rich will give you some taste.”

“Not marrying him.”

“Yet.”

They’d had this conversation far too many times over the past few weeks.

Hermione took a sip of her drink, shocked to see she’d almost finished it at this point.

“Let’s check Twitter, hopefully it’ll make this star spangled speech a little more interesting,” Pansy said, checking the app with squinted eyes and letting out a laugh. “Yep.”

“Show me!” Hermione asked, crawling over on the couch to look over Pansy’s shoulder. Honestly, she wished she hadn’t.

_@LeslieB6901: The Malfoys are definitely soul-sucking demons if they have me thinking I could vote for a Republican for the first time just to have a president who’s that sexy._

_@MelHatesYou: If Draco Malfoy is not gay… he’s definitely a murderer. No one that hot is single at 40._

_@PatrickManto: Draco Malfoy is definitely gay. Look at that smile. Those legs. That hair. Would die for him._

_@JillyBean: @PatrickManto … your profile has a pride flag and says you’re nonbinary. You know he AND his father hate you and vote against your interests every day? Being attractive doesn’t give you the right to be a monster._

“Nope,” Hermione shook her head, scooting back to the other side of the couch. “I’m done reading those. How’d you even find them?”

“Search the word Malfoy and they all show up. Better get used to searching your own name on here and setting up a Google alert, sis. It’s important to know what the masses are saying.”

“I hardly think that the people of Twitter constitute the masses.”

Pansy shrugged, “They’re the most engaged population, and the press runs with clickbaity articles from Twitter fodder. It’s the easiest way to fill a newscycle.”

“That’s ridiculous-”

Pansy held up a hand, “I’m not saying it’s fair or hard-hitting journalism, I’m just telling you what’s what. Get used to it.”

“Well, we missed the whole family coming out together,” Hermione frowned, watching as the channel returned to a reporter. She could see the Malfoys on stage in the blurred background, and knew she needed to text Draco. He’d think she missed his speech if he didn’t have a message by the time he checked his phone.

**Hermione: You looked good. Your speech was perfect… maybe even better than your practice rounds. How do you feel?**

She cleaned up, feeling a bit drunk, but knowing how long it would take Draco to finish up with the media and text her back. It was better to have a clean house in the morning than wake up and have to do all of the work while Pansy whined about her hangover.

Pansy was asleep on the couch by the time Draco replied.

**Draco: Thank you, sweetheart. I miss you.**

Hermione was glad no one, namely her roommate, was around to hear her girly giggle at his earnest text. The straightforwardness of Draco, or perhaps just older men in general, always had her a bit tingly.

**Hermione: I miss you more, but you didn’t answer my question! How is it going? I have images of blinding camera flashes and mobbing reporters in my head.**

**Draco: Sounds about right. Father’s security detail is driving us home now, trying to get used to the fact that this is life now.**

As Senate Majority Leader, Lucius was assigned a security detail that was only increased now that he was running for president.

**Hermione: You won’t need security here, love. Just come back to me and I’ll help you feel normal. Clean up the dishes, do my laundry, etc.**

**Draco: Not sure that’s what I’ve had in mind for next week, baby.**

**Hermione: Oh?**

**Draco: Leave Thursday night open.**

**Draco: I’ll call you tomorrow. Being pulled into a riveting discussion on the merits of early campaigning in Nebraska’s second district. I love you, sweetheart.**

**Hermione: Prayers coming your way. Goodnight :) xox**

She’d gotten to a point of feeling comfortable with texting hugs and kisses, which felt both a bit juvenile and like a major step in their relationship. She loved Draco, she did. But telling him in the middle of a post-blowout discussion had felt like relenting. Like she would’ve been the human version of a controlled avalanche; standing strong and then just toppling down at the slightest pressure.

Maybe it was tacky, but she had been hoping to spend Valentine’s day with Draco. The stars hadn’t aligned, though, and Congress had a District Work Period that entire week, so Draco would be home in Charlotte attending community forums and would likely fly to Iowa to join his father on the campaign trail that weekend.

Perhaps it was because she was so young and inexperienced, but the thought of spending their first Valentine’s Day in a relationship apart had her mopey. Hermione Granger did not mope; she honestly also didn’t romanticize about men sweeping her off her feet. Not until now, at least… She would’ve loved to see how Draco would have treated her on Valentine’s Day, but now, that was a thought she’d keep to herself. He had enough to deal with, and she wouldn’t add her sadness about spending a commercialized holiday apart to his plate.

But, the stubborn, hopeful part of her brain thought, maybe he’d send her flowers. She’d keep that buried deeply; it was better for her hopes to be dashed in front of an audience of one.

xxx

**February 7, 2019**

Draco was in an extremely chipper mood, and it had Hermione feeling giddy.

“I hate surprises,” she groaned, unable to hide her small smile as Draco blasted Pop2K on Sirius XM. ‘SexyBack’ by Justin Timberlake was playing, and Hermione was certain she was one of the only people who would not be shocked to discover that Draco knew all of the words. And, she thought derisively, he had a great voice. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

“You sure do listen to instructions well for someone who hates surprises,” Draco observed, taking a hand off the wheel and rubbing it on her thigh.

She was dressed in a white, caped sheath dress that Draco had begged her to try on during their Christmas shopping trip, and much to her surprise, she fell in love with it. The fabric was tight on her body, and the ruching made her slim hips look as close to an hourglass silhouette as they ever would. He’d asked her to wear the dress on a FaceTime call the night before in the deep, commanding voice that always made her wet, and she was helpless but to obey.

“It’s the voice,” she muttered.

“Hm?” Draco asked, eyes on the road in front of him.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” he prompted, gently squeezing her thigh.

“Your voice…” she started, turning bright red as her throat dried up in embarrassment.

“You like when I tell you what to do,” Draco nodded, like he’d figured her out before she’d even had a chance to examine her own self. “That works out well because I like when you’re my good girl. You listen so well.”

She shifted in her heated leather seat, letting out a little whimper. How did he make those words sound so hot? When any other man called her a ‘good girl’ she readied herself to fight the patriarchy, but when Draco said it… She just wanted to roll over and have him ravish her.

Draco took pity on her and spoke again, but Hermione could tell by his smile that he was clearly amused at how speechless he could leave her with just a phrase. He truly was the worst sometimes.

“My sweet girl... Are you hungry?”

She shook the fog out of her head and nodded.

“Very hungry. Are you going to tell me what we’re eating?”

His laugh was loud. “Not on your life.”

She found out a few minutes later when they pulled up to a cozy side street in Georgetown where a few young men were waiting at a valet stand. Her door was opened by one of them, and she was careful not to twist an ankle as she hopped out of Draco’s car, however low to the ground it was.

“Is this the Italian restaurant you love?” she asked as Draco walked around the car. He’d slipped the valet a bill that she assumed was far more than someone deserved for parking the car, but it warmed her heart nonetheless. Draco was a good man.

“It is,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist as one of the handsomely paid valets scurried to open the restaurant’s heavy door. “Careful… don’t fall down the stairs.”

Hermione laughed a bit, but also kept an eye on the wooden stairs as they walked down them. Her heels were loud, but thankfully there was enough of a crowd in the foyer at the bottom of them that only she and Draco could hear the way she’d clunked down the steps.

“Congressman Malfoy!” an older woman smiled as they stepped up to the host stand that was more of a desk than a dinky piece of would.

“Mira,” he replied with a grin of his own, pressing a kiss to the woman’s cheeks as she moved towards him.

“And who is this bella donna, my Draco?” she asked with an approving up and down look at Hermione.

“This is Hermione,” Draco smiled softly, rewrapping his arm around her waist despite the crowd of people waiting for their tables.

“Welcome, Hermione,” Mira smiled. Her wrinkled face was kind, and she had a light accent. Hermione put her money on the woman owning the restaurant.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she replied kindly.

“None of that,” the woman shook her head. “Just Mira. Follow me, let’s get you fed… You’re peaky as always, my boy.”

Hermione laughed at that, getting a squeeze on her hip from Draco as he rolled his eyes.

“You can fatten me up tonight, Mira,” he replied.

“I’m counting on that. Here you are, your father’s favorite booth!”

“Hidden away in the corner, where no one can bug him,” Draco finished, drawing a giggle from Hermione.

“Exactly,” Mira winked. “I’ll be over soon to make sure you’re okay.”

“I love this,” Hermione said once they were alone, trying not to grin like a fool.

The restaurant was completely decked out in reds and pinks and whites, with hearts and cupids everywhere that the eye could see. It was like Cupid himself had vomited Valentine’s Day decor into every available inch of the large restaurant. It was totally absurd and campy, and she loved it.

Though she wouldn’t put words to such a silly thought, it felt like the night had already made up for all of the February 14ths she’d spent alone. Whether it was high school when all of her friends received roses sent to their classrooms or college when she’d spent the week of the holiday in the library while her friends went on dates, she’d never had an intentional night like this. And she was grateful that Draco knew as much without her having to say it out loud.

Even smart girls wanted to feel special sometimes.

“I knew you would,” he smiled, pulling her hand into his own under the table. “They decorate this intensely for every holiday. My mother refuses to go around Halloween, she says that if Satan were to reside in any space, it would be here during the month of October.”

Hermione snorted, “I can only imagine. It’s beautiful now… tacky, but beautiful.”

“The best of both worlds,” he nodded. “You should take a look at the menu, it’s ridiculously long.”

“What do you get?”

“Lobster cardinale, it’s to die for. This is the only restaurant that I’ll pack up leftovers from.”

She raised her eyebrow, “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

He shrugged, “Credit where credit’s due; this pasta is too good to go to waste.”

He wasn’t wrong, as usual. Hermione had to stop herself from ordering a third drink, as the fruity concoction was so smooth that she could barely tell there was alcohol in it.

By the time their slices of cheesecake came - strawberry for Draco and triple chocolate for her - she felt like she was going to explode.

“Enjoy,” their waiter said as he carefully placed their dessert on the table.

Hermione’s eyes were wide at the massive pieces of cheesecake, and she had to stop herself yet again from taking a picture of the food. Draco would absolutely make fun of her for doing so, she was certain, and she’d restrained herself thus far.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured, taking her by surprise when she glanced down to see a sizable piece of her decadent dessert on his fork.

Her mouth was dry, but she let her jaw fall open and let the luscious bite melt on her tongue.

She moaned in a way that was more fit for a movie than a dark corner of an old Italian restaurant, but she couldn’t help it. The cake really was that delicious.

“Good?” Draco asked, voice deep and low as he scooped up another bite for her, forgoing his own food to feed her. She had to readjust on the velvety booth, feeling infinitely grateful that it wasn’t plastic. If it was, she’d be stuck to the bench in no time if Draco kept this up.

All she could do was nod and accept another bite.

“Try some?” she questioned after a few minutes, realizing how close they’d gotten. Her bare knee was pressed to his thigh, and she wished that his skin was pressed against her own. She needed to get out of here before she turned their dinner into a truly indecent scene.

In lieu of an answer, Draco held a hand up and mimed signing a check in the most upper class white man move of all time. It broke her out of her fog for just a moment as she snorted.

“You would do that,” she chuckled, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“The hand motion.”

“It’s me being nice. If I just held a hand up, he’d have to come twice, once to see what I wanted and again to bring the check.”

“You deserve a Nobel Peace Prize,” Hermione replied.

“I do,” Draco agreed solemnly before straightening up as their waiter came back. “Thank you for your service, Leon. We appreciate it.”

Hermione smiled at the kindness of the waiter as he spluttered over Draco’s words. Man or woman, it seemed like the blond’s attention had that effect on everyone.

By the time they got to the car, Draco’s free arm weighed down by the cheesecakes and the leftovers from their meal, Hermione felt like she was jumping in anticipation over what the rest of the night had in store.

Her tipsiness had faded by the time the cold night air was whipping in her face, and as soon as the door to the car shut her mind was alight with things she could say to let Draco know just how she was feeling.

In love. Grateful. Very, very aroused. Ready to be in his bed.

All of the above.

“Seatbelt.”

Draco’s command had her jumping, and he leaned over to do it himself when it was clear she wasn’t moving to buckle herself in.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

The night was dark enough that she couldn’t tell if his eyes were knowing or concerned.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just excited to get home.”

“My home?” his voice was cautious, and it had her remembering just how recently they’d fought when she’d asked to go home.

“Your home,” she confirmed, and Draco’s large hand started roaming over her left thigh. His fingers curled under her dress, so close yet so far from where she wanted them.

Despite Pansy’s insistence that thong lines under dresses were almost as egregious as panty lines, she’d worn a thin g-string. Now, she was infinitely grateful for the fabric, uncertain of whether wet marks would appear on her white dress otherwise.

The car ride was quick, and Draco ordered her in that low, dominant voice of his to go upstairs while he put their food in the fridge.

Once she got into his room, she turned his lamp on and paused. Should she get undressed? Lay on his bed? What was the proper etiquette here?

She felt a bit silly for acting like this was a one night stand and not a normal night with the man she’d already slept next to and been naked with multiple times. But at the end of the day, she was a young woman about to initiate sex for the first time and try to tell her boyfriend she loved him in one fell swoop. Her nerves were certainly warranted, and they weren’t going away no matter how Pansy’s voice was blasting in her brain to get it together.

Completely in her head, she jumped as Draco’s voice sounded.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, placing two glasses of water, one with ice and one without, on his nightstand.

“Nothing,” she smiled softly, stepping into his arms and sighing as he squeezed.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do anything tonight, baby,” he replied, smoothing a hand down her hair. “I’m just happy to spend time with you before I have to go back to Charlotte.”

She pulled back, stepping onto her tippy toes and pulling Draco’s face in between her hands. He looked far too amused as she put her face close to his squished cheeks.

“I’m fine,” she promised.

“You are,” he agreed with a crooked grin, pressing a kiss to her lips and running his hands down her back.

“I am,” she repeated, and then before she lost her nerve, she pushed out, “And I want you. No more limits. No more waiting. I want you.”

There was a brief moment when all was still and his eyes met hers in the low light of the room, like he was searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, and he crushed her to him, lifting her up in his embrace as his kiss took her breath away.

She was so lost in the moment that she barely realized he’d laid her down on the bed and somehow managed to undo the back of her dress all at the same time. It was impressive maneuvering, but she was too distracted by the wet kisses he pressed down her jaw and neck to think further on it.

All too soon, he pulled away from her to unbutton his shirt, leaving himself in tight slacks and a white undershirt. She sat up with a groan, knowing that it would be easier to shrug out of the top of her dress and remove her bra. Movies definitely made things like getting undressed seem a lot less awkward than they tended to be in real life, and she was grateful when her dress and heels were finally off and Draco had stripped down to his boxer briefs. She thought he might have been aiming for full nudity, but he’d been utterly distracted by the tiny white g-string she’d worn.

“Look at you, you’re so beautiful sweetheart, so sexy like this,” he groaned as he rubbed her through the damp fabric, making her squirm.

His hands were everywhere - circling her nipples in a way that drove her wild, peeling off her panties, and pushing her thighs apart.

“Touch me,” she whined, unable to stay still any longer. She loved when Draco guided them in bed, but she was about to combust, and his initial surge of passion had cooled to a slower pace than she’d expected.

“Hm?” he asked, trailing open mouthed kisses down to her breasts, his hands on the outside of her hips. Not touching her body at all.

“Please!” she bucked her chest up into his mouth, not even anxious at the thought of hurting him as she thrust.

“There,” he breathed out, hot air making her wet nipple pebble up further. “My sweet girl, forgetting her manners.”

“Don’t tease me.”

Draco pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “My good girl… I’m going to give you what you want, okay?”

“Please,” she agreed, reaching one hand down to cover his own and guide it between her legs. She was aching and far past the point of being able to squeeze her legs together to create enough friction.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and stroked her thighs, pushing them further apart, and she let out a high noise as he moved his index finger up and down her slit as though he were apprising the state of her wetness. She was soaking, and there was no way he couldn’t tell. He was teasing her… again.

Unwilling to beg, she lifted her hips in the hope his finger would somehow connect with her clit. Draco seemed to get the picture, flicking his thumb over her clit and sliding one and then two fingers into her sopping wet pussy.

“You’re dripping for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, pressing kisses to her lips in a fast, fond pattern. “I love you so much.”

She couldn’t help it; was it romantic? Maybe. Was it genuine? Yes.

“I love you, Draco,” she replied, the words slightly breathless and full of emotion. She meant it and had to repeat it. She couldn’t have him not knowing that she meant it, not when she was fully prepared to give herself to him. “I love you.”

It was almost comical how he froze for just the briefest of moments, two fingers still pressed inside her, before he lifted his head to gaze down at her with the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.

In seconds, he’d tangled both of his hands in her hair and kissed her again, his tongue devouring her, before he impressively flipped them so she was straddling his lap. He cradled her face in his hands as he grinned at her.

“Say it again,” he prompted.

A smile stretched across her lips.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

She giggled this time.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy.”

He exhaled in a relieved way that made her wonder if he’d somehow been holding his breath around her for months, fearful that she’d slip away from him. He pulled her close, his forehead pressing against her own and closed his eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

He opened his grey eyes and smiled at her again. “I’m not. I don’t want you to say it unless you’re ready, and you genuinely mean it.”

He was still holding her face with both hands, so she stroked her hands up and down his arms and over his shoulders.

“I do mean it,” she whispered.

“I love you so much. Forever,” he promised.

Tears filled her eyes and her heart felt like it might somehow overflow with all of the emotion she felt.

“Forever,” she repeated.

She could hardly breathe as the weight of the moment settled over her. It was better than any movie she’d ever seen, and she had no idea how she’d ever been insecure about sharing her feelings with him. Their love story wasn’t something that’d occurred in any movie she’d ever seen, but maybe it would grace the screens one day. For now, though, it was theirs alone, and it was the most perfect moment she could ever imagine: the two of them, in their private little escape from the world, sharing their love for each other.

A man and a woman in love. And about to make love. Or fuck. Wherever the moment took them, she was ready for it and trusted Draco to lead them there.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart,” he said, with what she could only identify as barely-there restraint in his voice.

“Yes!” she nodded fervently.

He wrapped a hand around her hip to steady her before leaning over with all of the grace she expected from him, even in this weird in-between moment. As he sat back up, his bedside drawer sliding shut with a resounding sound, he held a shiny foil packet between his fingers.

She was a student of life, and found herself fascinated by everything that took place in and outside of the bedroom; including the act of Draco slipping out of his boxer briefs even as she knelt above him and then rolling a condom on himself. How could he make something so weird look hot? Despite her certainty about finally having sex with the man she loved, seeing him roll a condom over his cock was a reminder that he looked to be rather well endowed, and she was suddenly nervous about fit and whether it would hurt. Didn’t everyone say it hurt the first time?

“Come back on my lap, sweetheart,” Draco smiled, patting his toned thighs gently.

She obeyed without thinking, crawling the short distance from where she hovered over his calves up to his thighs and hungrily leaning in to kiss him. Knowing that she just needed to take the leap, she pulled back to make sure she was directly over where she needed to be and lowered herself onto his cock.

She’d perhaps moved too quickly - the pain was sharp, and she wished she was at a different vantage point to know if she was close to being fully seated on his dick.

“Perfect, just perfect,” he praised, pressing chaste pecks to her lips in between his compliments as she let out a soft whimper. Gravity was doing more of the work than she was, but she was in uncharted waters, and having Draco’s reassurance in the moment meant everything.

“You’re so tight. Feel so good,” he groaned into her hair, and even though she thought she might be about to split in two, it was worth it to hear the desire and need in his voice.

She let out a pained hiss as she felt herself bottom out, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She needed a minute. Maybe two.

“That’s it. You’re there, my sweet girl. Take your time, baby,” he crooned in her ear, trailing his smooth fingertips up her hip before circling her nipples. The pleasurable twinge had her rocking her hips against her own volition, and she was surprised to find that the painful sting had faded into pleasure.

She hadn’t really expected to be on top and wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Obviously some sort of up and down motion was required, but she wasn’t sure what kind of pace was needed, and she wasn’t sure she could do it either. Her thighs were already quivering and felt like jello.

She rocked her hips harder and gasped at the sensation. It wasn’t enough though. She needed more.

“Draco… more,” she pleaded, letting out a sigh as he recaptured her lips and met her thrust.

His free hand moved back down to her clit, which only heightened her arousal.

“You’re so tight,” Draco groaned. “Feel so fucking good, my perfect girl. You were made for me, Hermione.”

“Ahh... I love you,” Hermione replied in a voice that she couldn’t believe was her own, the high, breathless tone far outside of anything she’d ever heard from herself.

He pressed his mouth to hers, devouring her in a wild kiss as he rolled them, pinning her down to the bed. His thrusts moved at a steady pace, and she clung to him, lifting her hips to meet his and wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Yes, that’s it. That’s my girl,” he encouraged, shifting one of her legs higher and making her cry out as his thick cock hit something inside her that felt absolutely incredible. She wanted to tell him to stay right there, keep doing _exactly that,_ but words seemed to fail her. She could only seem to manage incoherent moans, and then his thumb was at her clit again, moving in time with his thrusts, and she thought she might see stars.

“You’re so good, so good, baby. Gonna make me come,” he warned what felt like moments later, speeding up his thrusts and flicking his thumb even faster over her clit.

Despite the pain she’d felt at the outset, he’d coaxed pleasure from her inexperienced body, and she hung on the precipice of orgasm, her pussy contracting around his cock in a way she knew he had to feel.

“Come with me,” he commanded, and Hermione felt the white hot rush of orgasm as she clung to him. He was her anchor, and she had never felt more safe and more free than she did as her body obeyed his command.

It could’ve been seconds or minutes later when Draco pulled out of her, and her center clenched emptily. She looked down, feeling wetness on her inner thighs, and had a sudden moment of fear that the condom had broken. It was blood.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Draco soothed, clearly seeing her wide-eyed stare.

“I know,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice. “It’s normal.”

Draco smiled gently and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Hold on. Let me take care of you.”

He came back almost immediately and pressed a warm, wet washcloth to the inside of her thighs. “It is normal. Jarring, but normal. You’re perfect, love. Just perfect.”

If anyone had told her that she’d be lying on a possibly bloodied comforter while Draco Malfoy had a washcloth between her legs, she would have been horrified, but somehow his tender touch felt right.

She grinned up at him.

“I love you,” she repeated. The words felt almost too good to be true.

“I love you too,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s get you in the bath, and I’ll clean up in here.”

“No,” she shook her head, feeling like a petulant child as she did so. “Come with me. Pleeeease.”

She dragged out the last word and offered up her most pleading look.

He sighed, “You look like the little orange cat from Shrek when you do that. I can’t say no to that face.”

Hermione smiled, inordinately pleased with the way the night had gone as Draco plucked her up into his arms like the dashing prince from her childhood storybooks.

And, in their little bubble where there were no presidential campaigns and no hordes of press and nothing to worry about, that’s exactly what he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you loved this! Let me know your thoughts :)
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr to chat at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com
> 
> The restaurant and Valentine's Day vibes: https://www.facebook.com/FilomenaRistoranteDC/posts/thats-amore-make-your-valentines-day-reservations-at-filomena-today-httpwwwfilom/2195657927121581/
> 
> Hermione's dress: https://www.macys.com/shop/product/betsy-adam-caped-sheath-dress?ID=6162307&pla_country=US&CAGPSPN=pla
> 
> Himalaya Birkin: https://www.christies.com/features/Deconstructed-The-Hermes-Himalaya-9532-3.aspx


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, friends! I so hope you enjoy this chapter.

**February 26, 2019**

An irritated Draco wasn’t a new concept; whether it was a problem with the Energy and Commerce Committee on which he was now the highest-ranking Republican, or his father’s campaign team bugging him, or legislation he was trying to craft with his own team, she’d seen how annoyed he could get.

But today, when his snippiness extended to her, that was a different story. It was a bit awkward too, honestly.

Pansy had come to her office to drop off keys to Draco’s house with a ridiculously theatrical wink and story about how Hermione ‘forgot’ her keys that morning. How her colleagues didn’t realize that the story was a sham was beyond Hermione, but she’d never look a gift horse in the eye.

Draco hadn’t shown up until 8pm, and announced himself by slamming the door shut and throwing his keys at the wall instead of placing them in the small bowl Hermione had thoughtfully purchased after he’d misplaced them a few times.

He’d not eaten the meal she’d prepared and had barely spoken to her, and now, at 11pm, he was still on the phone working through some appropriations snafu that had him acting like an absolute ass.

By the time he’d hung up, she was on her sixth episode of Parks and Rec.

“Everything okay?” she asked into the tense silence of the room, not really knowing what else there was to ask.

Even that vague question had her feeling a bit uneasy; was he scared to tell her what was going on because his problems seemed to revolve around her boss? Did he think of her as the enemy in these scenarios? Both thoughts made sense, honestly, but she still felt the need to ask.

“No,” he replied, his tone much sharper than she’d ever heard it. He sounded like his father, honestly, and she didn’t like that at all.

“Can I do anything to help? I can reheat dinner.”

The dinner she’d cooked for him that he didn’t touch.

His laugh was biting.

“I don’t think dinner’s going to help.”

Hermione had never been hailed as a patient woman, and the little bit of grace that she had disappeared with the tone he’d used.  
“If you’re going to be a dick then I’m leaving,” she replied, starting to unwrap herself from the blanket burrito she’d ensconced herself in. If Draco was going to be a dick, however stressed he was, she didn’t want to be here for it.

He slumped down on the couch at her words, ending what had to be hours of pacing back and forth in front of the TV and the fireplace. She literally couldn’t leave, not with the way he had curled his body over her own. It was what she wanted from him, just not how she wanted it.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m trying to make you feel better, but when I’m making you more angry simply by offering to make dinner for you, I don’t know if you need me here,” Hermione snapped. “Or that I want to be here.”

Draco laid his head down in her lap, and she automatically started to stroke his hair before realizing she was being far nicer than he deserved.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please don’t leave me,” Draco sighed, nuzzling into her hand like an overgrown, affection starved cat. “It’s been an awful day, and I don’t normally have someone here with me during approps season. It’s a bit of a change from being frustrated alone to having a sweet little thing ask if she can reheat me dinner.”

“Stop touching me,” she said, moving to scoot back.

It was impossible to stay mad when he was so cuddly and pitiful, which was clearly exactly what he wanted. She needed space.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I said I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean that much when you’ve been a complete jerk to me this entire week, Draco. It’s okay to say that you need space to breathe or to be alone, but it’s not acceptable to treat me like gum on your shoe.”

“I’m trying to figure it out, okay? I wasn’t kidding... I’ve never come home to someone after my long days, this is an adjustment for me.”

“It’s a change for me too.”

“Let me know how I can make it better. I hate seeing you sad because of me, sweetheart.”

Draco was staring at her with wide eyes from the other side of the couch, looking like he thought the other shoe was about to drop. She wouldn’t leave him after one fight, especially one over something as benign as this, but she knew that this wasn’t a singular incident. If he was always angry and stressed, then their relationship would tank. She wasn’t here to be his punching bag.

“Just be nice to me,” Hermione replied with a huff. “I work at the same place you do, and my days are hardly easier than yours even though my name isn’t on the door.”

Draco nodded, reaching a hand towards her and letting it sit on the couch. Hermione stared at it for a moment before pulling it onto her lap. He smiled softly.

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m trying. Stay?”

“For now,” she relented.

“Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Bath?”

“Bath,” she agreed, letting out a sigh. This was going to be a long few weeks.

xxx

**February 28, 2019**

“I’m sorry to bug you,” Hermione started, pacing much like Draco was just a few days earlier.

Only now, she was far away from Draco and very pleased by that fact. Despite his apologies, he’d only gotten worse.

“Hermione, you could never bug me,” Luna replied, and even through the phone, she could tell the woman was serious. “Has Draco gone off the appropriations bend?”

She let out a laugh, “Is that what it’s called?”

“It is,” Luna said solemnly. “Draco and Blaise lose their minds every year around this time. Blaise has learned how to interact with me when he’s stressed, but I’m sure Draco is being a real jerk.”

“He is,” she agreed, eyes filling with tears despite herself. “He’s just… not someone I want to be around right now.”

“If you’ll let me preach…”

“Preach away.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Luna promised. “Stick with me here… when smart, normally chivalrous men let their anger and stress overload their brains, they turn into demons dressed in human skin. It’s the worst kind of witchcraft, I’ve seen it happen quite a few times over the years.”

That was… not the route Hermione had expected this conversation to take.

“But, thankfully there’s a cure.”

Hermione was very perturbed at Luna’s long pause. Was this a game show? Was she supposed to guess what the cure was?

“What is it?”

“Oh!” Luna’s laugh was tinkling and beautiful and Hermione couldn’t be mad at her. “I got lost in the memory of the last time demon Blaise was in the house.”

“That sounds awful!” Hermione replied, eyes wide as she tried to imagine Blaise being mean to his beloved wife.”

“Oh, it was. I chucked ice water at him to fix him. That won't get you long-term results, though though. Unfortunately it doesn’t get long-term results.” Even through the phone, Luna was very matter-of-fact and it had Hermione giggling as she imagined doing the same to Draco.

“What you need to do is take a step back and allow him to be with other men. They can fight and scream and eventually bring each other out of it.”

“So what do I do? Just… stay away from Draco until appropriations season is over?”

“Well, yes. As much as possible. Let Blaise and other congresspeople handle him. Your mental health matters just as much as his, and you need to learn early in your relationship that you can’t be everything Draco needs. No one can fill all of the holes in someone’s heart, and if you try you’ll both burst in a blaze of bloody flesh.”

Luna’s advice was solid, but Hermione thought her delivery provoked some rather disturbing mental pictures.

“I get what you mean,” Hermione’s reply was slow. “I think it’s just difficult to reconcile my desire to be there for him with my anger at his short-temper. He’s never like this, and I don’t like it.”

“Draco is not perfect, even if he’s pretty darn close to it, love. You are not able to solve everything, as smart and kind and determined as you are. Mesh those thoughts together in your mind.”

“So what now?”

“I think we take a page out of the Narcissa Malfoy playbook,” Luna replied with a hum. “I’ll call you back soon.”

xxx

**March 1, 2019**

Hermione could hardly believe she was currently seated on an Acela train to New York City.

Apparently, the ‘Narcissa Malfoy playbook’ involved guilt trips that led to girls’ weekends in the city that never sleeps.

“What’s that face?” Pansy asked, poking a perfectly manicured finger into Hermione’s cheek.

“I’m just wondering how I ended up here. It feels a bit silly.”

“This is the type of apology gift that you should expect from someone as rich as Draco,” Pansy was nodding along to her own explanation. “And, anyways, this trip is selfish on their parts. He and Blaise have to work all weekend and don’t want you and Luna bugging them.”

“Thanks for that,” Hermione muttered, feeling a bit offended though she knew it was true.

They’d be working through the weekend trying to iron out the Energy and Commerce Committee’s appropriations process before the Monday deadline. James was also working ridiculous hours, but thankfully that rested on the committee staff and not Hermione and her team. Small blessings.

“I’m serious! Just enjoy the weekend, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione sighed.

xxx  
 **March 4, 2019**

She had, in fact, enjoyed the weekend. The first night, when they ended up at a ridiculously expensive restaurant that Pansy had heard about from one of her socialite friends, Hermione had relented and used the credit card Draco had pushed off on her in a covert meeting in his office.

There was no way she could afford more than three drinks in Manhattan unless she planned on going a month without groceries, so she swallowed her anger at the way Draco had pinched her lips between two long fingers and told her his credit card had a $45,000 limit and to let him know if she needed more over the weekend. She had no idea what he thought they’d be doing that would warrant spending that kind of money.

The man was completely untethered from middle-class reality, and it had her wondering, for just a moment, if they could really be compatible. The earnest look in his eyes drew her back in, though, and she just grumbled a ‘thank you’ into his chest as he placed the card into her wallet with a pleased smile. He was a good man, if more rich and generous than she could ever comprehend.

But now she was back in DC, it was Monday, and she was tired.

First votes were supposed to start at 6:30 pm, but due to a snow storm in the Midwest, they were pushed back until 8 pm so that a large swath of Members could land in DC safely. That meant James kept the legislative team at the office for a look-ahead meeting.

Hermione would never say it out loud, but it felt like her boss was more interested in company than actually holding an informative meeting. She couldn’t even feel accomplished when James praised her ambitious plans to introduce bipartisan legislation to increase veterans’ access to health care, not when James was barely listening and fooling around on his phone.

She now understood all of the times that Penelope, their scheduler, had dealt with an angry, insistent James who claimed ‘he never consented’ to meeting with specific groups. He was hardly ever listening to his staff when they addressed him.

By the time they were dismissed, it was 8pm and the bell signifying votes just rang. Hermione’s phone had 12 texts from Pansy that had it constantly vibrating against her leg while explaining her bill idea. Thankfully, she had the information down pat and wasn’t thrown off by the potential distraction. She was, of course, worried that someone was dying. Why else would Pansy have needed to text her so many times?

She packed her bags quickly so that James couldn’t call her back in to discuss something else, and it seemed like everyone else had the same idea by the way Dorcas was speed walking out of the office with only one arm stuffed into the sleeve of her winter coat, freezing temperatures be damned.

It was a bit easier to breathe once outside in the frigid air, and she started the short walk home.

**Pansy: Bihhhh**   
**Pansy: girl**   
**Pansy: H**   
**Pansy: ????????**   
**Pansy: girl**   
**Pansy: f you SO hard**   
**Pansy: I’m changing the locks if you don’t text back**   
**Pansy: Theo asked me to dinner**   
**Pansy: Idk girl I need you to say ‘don’t go!!’**   
**Pansy: I’m going**   
**Pansy: Just stay home and call me at 9 if I don’t text you that I’m having fun**   
**Pansy: don’t tell Draco!!!!! I will kill you. I love you**

Hermione snorted, seeing that the last text had come in over an hour ago. By this point, it was almost nine. Knowing Pansy, she’d enjoy her time with Theo, and honestly... Hermione hoped it’d nip the girl’s slight interest in Harry in the bud.

After the texts Harry and a very drunk Pansy had exchanged over Thanksgiving, they’d spent the sum of one night together. The girl had been unwilling to discuss what’d occurred during their evening together, and Harry had gone radio silent which honestly worked well for Hermione. Though she was extremely curious what the hell had gone down.

Then, Pansy had been off to the Caribbean where her and Theo surprisingly did… nothing more than talk.

Was Pansy growing up? The girl did not need the baggage that went along with dating an attractive, rich dope, no matter how fun and funny Harry was - and Hermione said that with all the love in the world for him.

She was walking up to their house when the text came.

Pansy: All good! xo

By the time Pansy came home, Hermione was on the edge of her seat. Draco had sent a short text saying that Blaise forced him to attend a fundraiser, and honestly, that worked out for the best. He would’ve realized she was hiding something immediately if they were together. Her poker face was nonexistent.

“So?” Hermione asked impatiently from the couch as Pansy strutted slowly.

The smile on her pretty face said it all.

“It was just dinner,” Pansy shrugged, sighing as she sat down on the couch. “And a bit of an interrogation.”

“Do not do this to me! I’ve waited here alone all night.”

“That sounds like more of a “you” problem than a “me” problem.”

“Remind me why I should care about what you’re doing again when your attitude sucks this much?”

“Sorry, bitchy is a reflex,” Pansy replied with an unrepentant grin. “He was sweet and chivalrous and didn’t take me to We, the Pizza like Harry would’ve. Theo knows how to wield his wealth.”

“That’s good!” Hermione encouraged. “What did he interrogate you about?”

“Oh,” Pansy flipped her hair and curled her upper lip. “He said he saw you leaving Draco’s office twice last week.”

“Shit,” Hermione replied, getting her hand stuck in knotty curls when she moved to run it through her hair. “What did you say?”

“What do you think?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I told him that we’re paid to work and not to gossip, I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his pretty little head at that. Then he spent five minutes apologizing for insinuating that anything was going on.”

“You’re the best,” Hermione sighed, feeling a bit relieved. “Should I tell Draco?”

Pansy shrugged. “I would, I mean… I’m going to guess Adrian’s noticed something if Theo has.”

“Fun.”

“Certainly,” Pansy snickered. “It’ll be out soon, anyways. Just make sure he and Blaise can keep an eye on things.”

“That means I’ll have to tell him you went to dinner with Theo.”

Pansy mulled it over. “That’s fine. Hardly the worst interoffice relationship going on.”

She had a point.

“How did you leave it?”

Pansy’s response was dry, “Goodnight, see you at work tomorrow.”

“Well.”

“Well is right,” Pansy sighed. “Let’s leave that on the backburner for now. Did you make a decision yet?”

Right… the girl’s weekend in New York, as fun as it had been, included what Hermione would consider to be a drunken intervention. While it was well-meaning,

Hermione had bristled at Luna and Pansy’s insistence that she needed to do something for herself; not for Draco, not with Draco, and not for her office either. Hermione Granger, all by her lonesome.

“I have,” she smiled softly.

“Out with it!”

“I messaged my pastor last night and he’s getting me in touch with his contact who leads ministry efforts at the public housing site near us. He thinks it’s a great idea.”

“Of course he does!” Pansy agreed, and Hermione’s smile grew at that. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Pans,” Hermione replied sincerely.

She’d spent years idealistically dreaming of how she’d make an impact on the world, and her mind always came back to raising up the next generation of women. After growing up with parents who were never there, she’d felt called to serve young women in DC who may be experiencing the same thing. Honestly, Hermione had been surprised that Pansy didn’t outright object to her idea of starting a ministry for teen girls as trying to do too much and help too many people. No, Pansy had agreed that it made perfect sense, and Luna had even commented that Narcissa would be impressed with her decision. Not that the woman’s approval was what Hermione was going for… but it was encouraging.

Now she just needed to actually carve out time for the endeavor, which would be the most difficult part of all of this. Saying ‘no’ was easy. She could make a pretty solid case that she didn’t have enough time, couldn’t commit to something weekly, that teenage girls dealing with traumatic situations needed someone reliable in their lives… but she knew she should say yes. And she wanted to say yes, honestly.

“I love you,” Pansy smiled, yanking Hermione across the couch and into a hug. “We are both amazing. I need to sleep before life gets weird tomorrow.”

“I love you too,” Hermione smiled, following Pansy upstairs. “It’ll be fine. Theo isn’t socially inept, he’ll act like nothing happened.”

“Oh, my innocent, darling flower, don’t be too sure about that. Boys do crazy shit when their billionaire fathers are pressuring them to get a ring onto a perfectly manicured finger.”

xxx

**March 13, 2019**

The couple attended a happy hour for National Women’s History Month at the Capitol that evening, and Draco’s eyes burned into her the entire time. She was surprised that she was even able to catch up with Cho on her promotion with the way Draco’s lips would twist into a knowing smirk at her every time his eyes caught hers from across the room.

It was hardly one-sided though. As much as Draco’s eyes were on her, Hermione’s eyes were on him. That’s why she didn’t miss when he left the reception, and feigned a yawn of her own before following him out and meeting him in the hallway. Hermione was grateful Pansy wasn’t there to give her a knowing smirk at her fast clip out of the event.

She’d had a moment of fear that she’d made something out of nothing, and that he wouldn’t have been waiting for her. But he was, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his tight, perfectly tailored black pants. At that moment, she couldn’t blame the women who were pretending to text on the other side of the hallway just to stare at him for a moment longer. She understood how they felt.

As they made their way to the parking garage, Draco was stopped by Marcus Flint who clearly did not recognize her at all. Good. That was an embarrassment she did not need to suffer.

Though Hermione was amused by how stiff Draco was during the exchange, as though he still held a grudge against the man for the way he’d made her cry almost two years ago, the blond introduced her to the Montanan brute. He didn’t give her a title, not his staffer or acquaintance or girlfriend, but by the way the stranger greeted her, she could tell he understood.

And, unlike Percy and every Hill intern on earth, she didn’t have her staff badge hanging out of her blazer. So she looked like nothing more than a woman attending an event with her sexy Congressman of a partner. She was shielded by mystery, at least for now.

Both of them were clearly turned on by that thought, if Draco’s hand sliding up her thigh as he drove them home was any indication. They barely made it inside his townhome before he backed her up against the wall for a passionate kiss that sent shivers down her spine.

Between his trip back to the district and on the campaign trail with his father, her girls’ weekend in New York City, and his stress over appropriations, it felt like they’d barely had any quality time together.

Since they’d moved past the issue of her virginity, what little time they’d had together was often spent in bed. She didn’t exactly have anything to compare it to, but sex with Draco was amazing, and she couldn’t get enough of him...which was how she ended up stumbling down the hall in his embrace as she kicked off her heels and attempted to wriggle out of her tights without tripping.

Draco steered her toward the sofa, and she giggled as they fell onto it together, pulling at each others’ clothes.

“You introduced me to your colleague,” she murmured into his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Mmmm… I did,” he said pulling her up so she was straddling him, his hands easily disappearing under her dress now that her tights were off. “And we walked out of the Capitol like a regular couple. And no one said anything.”

“I… oh....do that again,” she gasped as his fingers slipped beneath her panties. “I know. It felt normal and forbidden all at once.”

“It did. I feel like a teenager sneaking around,” he admitted as he peeled her dress off and then rolled them over so he was on top of her on the sofa.

“Very naughty,” she agreed, sliding her hands down his ridiculously perfect abs and unbuckling his belt and pants as quickly as she could.

“Very. Want you now,” he murmured into her chest as he tugged her panties down enough for her to kick off.

Hermione was ready, only to have him pull back from her.

She let out a questioning noise as he reached onto the floor and dug through his wallet.

He spoke at the same time that she realized what he was going for.

“Condom.”

Thankfully he was quick about it, and even as he pressed a kiss of apology to her lips, the only thing on her mind was the anticipation of what came next.

Draco murmured a soft curse word as he pushed into her. He took her hard and fast, pinning her arms above her head, his hands holding tight to her wrists as he drove into her. He’d not done that before, and she had no doubt that he’d release her if she asked, but she was surprised to realize that she liked the way she felt when he held her down. Unable to free herself, she wriggled her hands in his grip and arched her back into his touch, wrapping her legs around him as he sent them both flying over the edge into orgasm.

They ended up a sweaty and breathless tangle of limbs on the sofa afterward, which was both awkward and wonderful all at once. She snuggled closer to him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne as they caught their breath.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss into her messy curls. “You are so good, sweetheart,” he murmured. “My good girl.”

She blushed at his words and let out a small squeak as his hands roamed over her naked body.

She’d managed to get his clothes off enough for sex, but she was now painfully aware that he was more dressed than she was.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” she muttered. How did her brain go the places it did sometimes? Especially in a moment like this.

“Tell me. Please,” he tacked on after a long pause, fingers worrying her nipples back to stiff peaks.

“Well,” Hermione drew out, tucking her face further into Draco’s chest.

“Can you look at me? Good girl,” Draco praised as they both sat up. He kicked off his pants and shrugged out of his shirt and then grabbed a throw and wrapped it around them, clearly uncaring of the stickiness all over their bodies and now his favorite blanket.

“I liked watching you at the event,” she said quietly, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You always look in control… it turns me on. And then what you did… holding my hands down...”

“You like when I’m in control,” he repeated. “You also like when I tell you what to do.”

“That too,” Hermione insisted. “Is that… a thing?”

“A thing?” he asked, a small smile on his face. He was clearly recalling the conversation where she’d asked if her being a Christian was a turn on for him. How naive she’d been.

“Yes, Draco. You know what I mean.”

“I’m not teasing you, baby,” he promised, pulling her back into his arms. “This is a long overdue conversation, honestly. Everyone has their own way of internalizing their life’s circumstances. For someone like me, who’s had their life planned out since conception, I crave control. I need to know everything on my daily schedule; I need my staff to know the issues they cover inside and out. I don’t like surprises, and I don’t like to feel like life is controlling me.

“When I was your age, I found myself in the first serious relationship I’d ever been in. She was lovely, smart, driven, everything you’d want in a woman. Pardon me sharing so much about another lady, sweetheart, but this is important… we’d get into the bedroom and claw at each other. We both wanted control, and neither of us were willing to give it up. So we broke up.”

Hermione easily kept eye contact with Draco, knowing that she didn’t feel jealous. This was his past... it meant nothing. Especially, she’d discovered, if he’d turned down all of these women when his parents were breathing down his neck for a wedding and children. It was clear that he really didn’t care about his exes or his dalliances. All the better for her, honestly.

“I ended up going to see a therapist to try to see what was wrong with me. Turns out nothing is; I’m just a dominant man, I want to know that I have everything under control and I can take care of those who are special to me.”

Draco paused, taking a sip of water. She was starting to understand why he was so militant about having water in every room they went into; having sex really took it out of you.

“So I could’ve been more up front with you, sweetheart, and probably would have been if you’d had more experience. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with me. From what I’ve seen, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, sexually… we match up very well. How do you feel about all of that?”

They were both quiet for a moment, him giving her the floor and her trying to organize her thoughts into a coherent response.

“I haven’t been able to put words to what I’m feeling… it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Especially when it’s something...not completely sexual, like you buying self-defense things for me or wanting to know what I’m going to wear to an event.”

She fervently hoped that he knew what she meant.

“All of it is weird at some point,” Draco admitted with a bit of a laugh. “Sex is weird. Foreplay is weird. All of it’s weird until it isn’t. Different strokes for different folks and all that, but yes. You’re right about this not being purely physical. Dominance and submission, it’s less a purely sexual desire for me and more ingrained in my everyday life. The way you trust me to take care of you? Something in you trusts me enough to submit. Whether that’s listening to me in bed or listening to me when I ask you to eat lunch at work or using my credit card when I give it to you... That means a hell of a lot to me, Hermione, and I promise I will be careful with you, your mental state, and your heart. I need that control in my life, but I would never want to hurt you in any way.”

“I appreciate it, and I can tell that you care. But I also want to make you feel good… I don’t want this to be one-sided, you know?”

“Oh?”

Hermione blushed and looked down.

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“This is between you and me. We’re going to need to have this conversation at some point; so be brave for me, sweetheart.”

She took a breath. Be brave. She could do that. For Draco, anyway.

“I like when you tell me I’m good. I’ve always liked it when people praise me. At school, at debate club, at work… I’ve been wrestling with it, though. I know that it’s sexist and patronizing when someone at work says it to me. I bristle when anyone else does. But when you do? It makes me feel… nice. Special. A bit hot.”

Draco nodded as though her rambling thoughts made sense, waiting to make sure she was done speaking before he replied.

“Well first… our brains are complex; there’s no way we can ever expect to understand everything that we enjoy or dislike. Would I ever call you my good girl in front of anyone else? Absolutely not. Would I ever call a woman in the workplace a good girl? Absolutely not. Do I wish you’d call out your colleagues for saying it to you? I do.

“But if you like when I call you my good girl in private, then I will. If you decide you dislike any name that I’ve called you, be it good girl or sweetheart or sugar or anything else that comes up, then tell me. It’ll be a learning curve, but that’s what building a strong relationship requires.”

“I feel like we should be past the curve by now,” she frowned, feeling slightly defensive.

She’d clearly tensed up, and Draco ran a hand down her arm and made a soft soothing noise that helped her relax.

“Even people who’ve been in relationships for 50 years still learn new things about their partners. That will never change. What matters now is that we’re safe and continue to have these conversations. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, moving in for another kiss.

For a time, they simply rested together on the sofa in an easy silence. He seemed to know that she would want to mull over everything he’d said. She appreciated that he’d been open and honest with her but also moved at a cautious pace with their relationship and his need for control.

The feminist in her wanted to wholeheartedly reject the idea of allowing anyone to hold dominance over her - she was an adult and a strong woman, and she had proven that she could manage even when life was hard. Except that she liked letting Draco take care of her. He made her feel cherished and protected and loved. He’d never made it feel like there was an inherent power imbalance between them that he held over her or that she had no autonomy or control.

She could even admit now, as she rested against him, she could see that her earlier concern was misplaced. He was right: they couldn’t possibly be expected to understand everything about each other and their own needs, although she hoped that she wasn’t still trying to figure out this sort of thing when they’d been together as long as Lucius and Narcissa had.

Narcissa…

Something niggled at her brain at the thought of his mother. Then her eyes popped open wide.

“Oh! Draco! Your mother emailed me earlier, I haven’t read it yet.”

“Way to take me out of the moment,” he groaned, standing up and pulling Hermione into his arms. “Let’s get clean and into comfortable clothes before we entertain any more conversation about my mother.”

Hermione giggled at that. He certainly had a point.

xx

“What is it?” Draco asked, leaning his long body over to read Hermione’s phone screen.

“It’s… a list of a bunch of charities she thinks I should start volunteering with in DC,” Hermione replied, slightly confused by the email. The tone was nice; it was firm, too, saying that Hermione needed to plant philanthropic roots in the nation’s capital, and that she was more than happy to help her do that.

“She’s nagging you the way she nags me,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss onto Hermione’s bare shoulder. “My mom really likes you, sweetheart. Long emails full of demands and instructions are her primary love language.”

Hermione laughed, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

“Feel good, baby… feel good. ‘I’ll call you later to discuss; I’m praying for you now, dear,’ is my mother’s email version of a warm hug and plate of cookies.”

“If you say so…”

“I do,” Draco promised. “Can you teach me how to braid your hair? You said you would months ago…”

“I thought you were asking just to ask,” Hermione smiled softly. “You can, it will just take a while…”

She felt the tingly feeling she remembered from elementary school when people would ask to play with her curls, only much more intense knowing it was Draco who was putting effort into doing her hair.

Hermione was shocked to learn that he at least sort of knew how to both braid and French braid; Columba had forced him to learn when they were younger, and his muscle memory was still there. She would’ve been more impressed if Draco wasn’t perfect at everything else in the world, but had a silly little smile on her face as she curled up in bed with Draco as his hand stroked her long braid. It had taken him a long time to do, and he’d gotten his fingers tangled in her curls more than a few times, but his earnestness over the whole thing was simply adorable.

“Your mom hasn’t called,” Hermione whispered into Draco’s side, feeling only slightly bad for interrupting him as he read a binder of prep documents for a hearing tomorrow.

“She’ll call,” Draco was wearing his thick-rimmed black glasses that he only wore in bed, and she had to talk herself off of the ledge of arousal she was ready to fling herself off of. “They want you to come to Charlotte for my grandma’s birthday.”

“Which one?”

“Livana.”

“Oh! Please,” Hermione replied, surprised by how much she wanted to. “They were so nice… I’d love to get to know them better.”

“Of course, baby. It’s next weekend, so just plan on flying out Friday.”

She nodded into his soft skin. Sounded like a plan to her.

xxx

**March 22, 2019**

Hermione was now a true professional when it came to snapping photos of Draco and random people, and she felt silly for not realizing that everyone at their airport gate knew exactly who he was.

The gate agent was clearly a seasoned veteran at handling elected officials, and insisted Draco board the flight first. In what seemed to be a practiced routine, he said no, he’d board when he was called. They had been upgraded to first class, something that he never paid for, but didn’t refuse when offered.

An older woman had regaled them with tales of working on Abraxas’ first campaign for mayor of Charlotte, and if Hermione had to judge her own patience while the wrinkly lady blabbered on in a deep accent, she’d give herself a ten. How Draco did this every day… she had no idea.

“Grandma,” a woman who looked to be Hermione’s age walked up, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Why don’t you leave them alone?”

The old woman’s brown eyes opened wide, like she hadn’t even considered that she was interrupting their time together.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dears!” she apologized, and both Hermione and Draco waved her off. But honestly… Hermione hoped she’d leave.

“No worries, ma’am,” Draco smiled easily. He was too damn good at the chivalrous southern gentleman routine.

“See, miss, this is why an old hen like me takes up your time blabbering! It’s tough not to come and adore your fella up close.”

Hermione let out a giggle, “Any time, miss. It’s been lovely hearing your stories.”

“Anytime, dears. Safe travels!”

The women walked away and left them blessedly alone. For a moment, at least.

“You’re a natural,” Draco smiled, taking Hermione’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to it.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s not that bad… they’re sweet.”

“Wait until we have angry people coming up to us,” Draco warned.

“Does that happen often?”

He moved his hand in a so-so motion.

“Hm... I’m sure it’ll happen more often now with father’s campaign starting, but in Charlotte most people are polite even when they disagree with us. The worst I get is someone angry about something they don’t completely understand, and I take the time to have a dialogue with them until they’re calmer.”

Hermione sighed. “I took a call from someone in Kansas earlier today who insisted I had to listen to them since they pay taxes and I work for them.”

Draco let out a loud laugh, “That’s… not how this works.”

“Right?” Hermione agreed enthusiastically. “If people bothered to read the Constitution, they’d have some semblance of understanding that I work for the people of my district, not every American.”

“Spoiler alert, sweetheart,” Draco whispered, an amused smirk on his face that had Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. “Americans take pride in their ignorance. They will never take the time to read a 4,500 word document.”

xxx

**March 23, 2019**

Hermione wasn’t nervous as they drove up the long drive to Lucius and Narcissa’s manor. She could have even classified herself as excited. Without Bellatrix, this felt like going to Disneyland. Well, what she expected going there would feel like.

Narcissa had insisted they come over early to help set up, which Draco said was code for ‘drink and talk’ since the woman had already finished cooking and decorating the house for the party.

Tasteful decorations, Draco had added after a moment, as though he’d been able to peer into Hermione’s mind and see the images of streamers and a plastic table cloth that she’d conjured up.

“You look beautiful,” Draco smiled as he helped Hermione out of the truck, running a reverent hand down her cheek.

“Thanks to you,” she rolled her eyes, accepting his hand as they walked up.

“Thanks to me,” he agreed. “My mother’s already commented on how chic you are, so we just need to keep that up.”

She just nodded, keeping to herself that he’d need to buy all of her clothes if she wanted to pay rent, eat food, and dress like a Malfoy. She couldn’t swing all three, as much as she’d love to have the funds to do so.

“Hermione!” Narcissa smiled as they walked in, pulling the girl into a warm hug. “Draco, dears… we’ve missed you.”

“Hi Narcissa,” Hermione smiled, loving the way she could call the woman by her first name without reservation now. “Thank you for having me.”

“None of that! You’re family.”

“And you’re chipper,” Draco replied, shaking his head.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, “And none of that, son! Go see your father, he’s in a mood and I will not be having it today. His mother deserves better.”

“Yes ma’am,” Draco replied dutifully, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple before slipping his shoes off and heading into the house.

“There,” Narcissa smiled. “Just us girls now.”

Hermione laughed, “Is Senator Malfoy actually upset?”

“Call him Lucius. He’ll never drop the formality himself, so I’ll take care of that for him. Men and their points of pride.”

“Lucius,” Hermione said, a bit cautiously. When push came to shove, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to call him Lucius to his face. Not without Narcissa glued to her hip and ready for backup, at least.

“He is in a bad mood, he’s been prickly all day. It’s his mother’s birthday, and I won’t stand for anything less than chipper and loving.”

Narcissa was one amazing, scary woman.

“I’m sure Draco will be able to help with that. Speaking of… what can I do to help set up?”

“You’re too sweet, dear. Let’s set up the mimosa bar and sample our work,” Narcissa let out a tinkling laugh.

“That sounds like a plan… how have you been? I’m sure the campaign has made life a bit tougher.”

“Oh, we’re always in the midst of one campaign or another. It’s just the unpleasantness of traveling to the cold, dreary midwest in this one,” she sighed, leading Hermione into a gorgeous kitchen outfitted in light blues and cream.

“I can’t imagine,” Hermione commiserated. “What is your role on these early visits?”

“Ceremonial, mostly. My presence sweetens a lot of smaller events up, and it brings women in the door which allows us to raise more money. Nothing opens up a man’s wallet like a smooth drink and his wife’s smile, hm?”

Add Narcissa to the list of people who were out of touch with middle-class reality.

“That’s smart,” Hermione commended, unsure of what else she could say. “I’m sure the campaign trail is a bit different when you’re in New Hampshire or Iowa.”

“You have no idea. I’ve told Lucius I won’t be going to the state of Nevada, that place is the closest to Hell we’ll ever come on this planet, but he still plans to campaign there.”

Hermione had to hide a laugh at the disgusted expression on the beautiful woman’s face.

“I’ve never been to Nevada.”

“You’re better off for it! Lucius took me to Las Vegas for a conference once, I have never felt dirtier in a five star hotel. Drug dealers, ladies of the night, it was a nightmare. You just tell me if my son ever tries to take you there, and I’ll be having words with him.”

“I appreciate that,” Hermione replied, thinking that was the right thing to say.

“Enough talk of the devil’s playground… You said you have a philanthropic endeavor in mind?”

“I do,” Hermione smiled. This was far more even ground. “I’m in the process of starting a small group for Christian girls in DC.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful. How old?”

“Middle school, my pastor connected me with the head of ministry efforts at one of the public housing complexes in southeast DC, and he identified them as the group most in need of mentorship. It looks like I’ll have four girls in my group to start. As much as I’d love to have more, I don’t want to stretch myself too thin and be a poor mentor.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” Narcissa soothed as she juiced oranges for the mimosa bar. “Slice up some strawberries, wouldn’t you dear? It’s better to start small and get your feet under yourself than shoot for the stars and land with a resounding splat on the ground. This is an admirable undertaking, and you’ll change these young lives for the better. Why this?”

“Thank you, Narcissa. Your support means the world. My childhood was... nowhere near perfect. There were many aspects of growth that I missed out on, spiritually, socially and intellectually, without having my parents there to help me. I want to try to mitigate that as much as I can for other girls, whether that’s Bible study or help with homework or college applications or friendship advice... Everyone deserves to have someone there to help them.”

“You’re a dear heart, my girl. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance… I look forward to meeting these young ladies soon.”

“So do I,” Hermione smiled, trying as hard as she could to slice the strawberries evenly. The last thing she needed was Narcissa to disapprove of her cutting skills. “I’d love to volunteer with you when we are back in DC, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to, Lucius is the kind to make pathetic excuses when the weather starts to get warm. He thinks he can fool me after over 40 years of marriage, but I’m no fool… the man just wants to golf.”

Hermione laughed, “I’ll take his place.”

“We’ll need to drink to that,” Narcissa said, pouring both of them a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and champagne that was far fancier than the $6 bottles Hermione bought at Trader Joe’s.

“Cheers,” Hermione agreed, clinking their glasses together. “This is delicious!”

“Fresh squeezed juices are such a hassle when my hands are dry in the winter months, but always worth it.”

“Agreed,” Hermione nodded, taking another sip of mimosa. “What else can I do?”

“We’ll just need to put the blueberries in their own bowl alongside the strawberries and take everything out to where I’ve set up the drink bar.”

They had finished setting up a few minutes later and were downing their second drinks on the couch while Narcissa regaled Hermione with a story of how nine-year-old Draco spent the summer attempting to become the world’s youngest Kentucky Derby jockey.

A laugh bubbled up in Hermione’s chest.

“He just fell off?”

Narcissa let out a snicker of her own, head thrown back as she laughed.

“He did, I heard him scream from the barn. He’d put the goggles on before he was fully seated on the horse, and completely missed his mark. Fell right off the other side.”

“I can only imagine! Sorry for laughing,” Hermione had to cover her mouth, unsure if it was the image of a young Draco sneaking his father’s ski goggles to cosplay as a Kentucky Derby jockey or the alcohol making her laugh so hard.

“Don’t you worry, dear. It’s a funny story. Our Draco has always been… spirited and determined, which has led him into trouble once or twice.”

“This is… unexpected,” Lucius drawled, jolting the women up from where their heads were bowed together on the couch, champagne flutes in hands.

“Lucie,” Narcissa smiled softly, letting out another giggle as her eyes flickered to her son.

“What are you doing, wife?” he asked with newly narrowed eyes.

“We’re just sharing stories about Draco,” she replied. “Remember when he wanted to be a jockey?”

“No,” Draco groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I’m far too old for this.”

“Never!” Hermione and Narcissa replied at the same time, clicking their glasses at the jinx.

“I need a drink,” Lucius sighed.

“Me too, father. Me too,” Draco said, following the man up to the mimosa bar.

“No!” Narcissa admonished. “You can drink the Tropicana orange juice that’s in the fridge. Fresh made is for our guests.”

“And you two,” Draco muttered as he turned to follow his father out of the room.

“Pardon?” Narcissa asked in a sharp tone.

“Nothing mother,” he replied with a winning grin and wink at Hermione.

He really was the worst, but a slightly tipsy Hermione couldn’t help but find him charming.

“He’s far too much like his father,” Narcissa sighed as the men walked out. “You’ll have to clean up messes that people don’t even know he’s left.”

“Everyone just marvels at him,” Hermione agreed. “Does it ever get old? Having to share him?”

“You’ll have a lifetime of wide eyed women and cunning men begging you, ‘oh, please Mrs. Malfoy, come let us adore him for just a minute more!’ and you will have meals gone cold and shopping trips interrupted, but that’s public service. And you’ll be the beautiful woman taking the photo and taking him home, and they’ll be the person who is left with a photo and a few Facebook likes if they’re lucky.”

Hermione felt a bit taken aback at that; however blunt and disdainful Narcissa was… she had a point.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Narcissa smiled, patting her soft hand on Hermione’s own. She looked down to see the woman’s stunning wedding ring nestled on her ring finger. “Draco’s a good man, he’s just as protective as his father is… you’ll never have to deal with this on your own.”

“I’m grateful for it,” Hermione nodded, slightly shocked to realize that she and Narcissa were talking like they were well-acquainted. She felt slightly like a kid who’d had their training wheels taken off while they were focused on peddling. It felt normal. It was normal.

Voices sounded from the front hallway, and Narcissa stood up with her champagne flute still in hand.

“Let’s go dear, we have a party to throw.”

We… Hermione liked the sound of that when it came from Narcissa’s mouth.

xx

The cause of celebration may have been Livana Malfoy’s birthday, but Hermione had spent most of the day and night with Abraxas. The couple had clearly been together long enough to feel comfortable spending the day apart, Livana moving from person to person and laughing and talking with everyone like the seasoned political wife she was. Hermione was grateful for the chance to spend time with Draco’s grandfather - the man was an absolute delight and much more like Draco than Draco was like Lucius. It left her feeling confident and downright warm and fuzzy as she thought of what Draco would be like when he was older. Dapper and warm.

It was a bit uncomfortable, even for someone as logical as herself, to contemplate just how much older than her Draco really was. He’d always be older than her, and that was anxiety-inducing as she thought about the timeline she’d set for her own life and career. It was already likely going to be derailed by Draco’s and his father’s political careers, so she’d tried to avoid making herself even more anxious by thinking too much about what their age difference would really mean long-term. Having children would certainly have to be condensed on her timeline if they were to stay together, and that was a thought that she didn’t want to touch regardless of how many times Pansy tried to make her confront it.

“You’re a sweet girl, Miss Hermione,” Abraxas smiled softly, patting her bare thigh in the non-creepy way that only a kindly old, very-in-love grandpa could. “You sure have beat the odds, not being scared away by the snake pits and rat traps my son and his minions have tried to ensnare you in.”

Hermione giggled and spoke before she could stop herself, “Wasn’t Mr. Snape technically your minion first?”

The man let out a loud laugh, drawing multiple sets of eyes towards where they were nestled on a couch. The Malfoys had multiple sitting rooms that were classified by whether or not they had a television as either ‘family’ or ‘living’ spaces, which was yet another rich person concept that she could not fathom.

They were currently in a TV-less living space that was decorated in creams and blues, but unlike the sitting room in the front of the house where any regular guest could see, this one looked lived in. Hermione understood why it’d be utilized for a family event.

“Oh, he was, but I don’t claim him. Sev was a good, malleable boy back when he was on my payroll… that husband of his changed him for the worst.”

“Really?” she asked cautiously, not knowing what kind of waters she was treading in. As a woman, she was more than aware of people who’d open up a conversation with leading comments only to trap you when you made similarly damning comments of your own. The last thing she needed was middle school drama with grown men. Especially dangerous, rude men like these ones.

“Oh yes,” Abraxas nodded, blue eyes harder than they’d been at any other time in their conversation. “Power can make anyone worship at its altar, and Tom never wanted to get down on his knees and pray alone… Severus was a good pick for him, admittedly, but that doesn’t mean I like what he’s become.”

Hermione just nodded, not wanting to feed into this conversation. The territory was far too dangerous.

“You’re smart to be cautious, darlin’,” he smiled approvingly. “You’ve got a good brain in your noggin, but know that Livana and I are here if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Brax,” Hermione replied gratefully. “I really appreciate it.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, doll.”

“What’s this?”

Hermione jumped a bit as Draco entered the conversation, his eyebrow cocked as he looked between the pair.

“Just an old man with the good fortune to be entertained by a smart, pretty gal.”

“I see,” Draco drawled slowly, accent coming out even more in the presence of his extended family. “Room for one more man looking to be entertained?”

Now that just sounded wrong, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

Hermione patted the other side of the couch, and tried not to snort at the thought of now being in the middle of a Malfoy sandwich.

“Precious!” Columba cooed, noticing that three of them were laughing together, as she pulled out her phone.

“Y’all look this way!” she called out, commanding them to smile for a photo.

“Don’t post that,” Lucius said sharply to his daughter, appearing seemingly out of nowhere at the sight of a camera.

When had he even crossed the room to take in what was happening? The man must’ve been only half-paying attention to the conversation he’d been having with Narcissa’s mother, poor woman.

By Columba’s expression, Hermione could tell Lucius’ tone wasn’t one she was used to having directed at her.

“I know, Daddy,” she scowled, looking like a carbon copy of her mother. “You boys act like I have no sense sometimes!”

“Hey, don’t involve me in this,” Draco retorted, holding his hands up in defense.

The pretty blonde just shot him a deadpan look, “You won’t be involved when y’all stop with the nonsense!”

Rolf had the good sense to stay on the other side of the room with Narcissa’s parents. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered how many Malfoy family fights he’d witnessed in his lifetime.

“It’s not nonsense, my precious girl,” Lucius sighed, rubbing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’ll just be until Easter, then you can be more free with social media, within limits of course. You really should just lock everything down.”

Columba’s answering scowl hinted that this was an on-going dispute between Lucius and his grown daughter.

Easter? That was news to Hermione, and by Draco’s expression, it was something that was news to him as well. Weirdly, that made her feel better. She didn’t want any secrets between them, and if that meant Draco was blindsided by this… then so be it.

“Easter?” Draco asked. Hermione loved many things about him, but his forwardness was chief among them.

“Easter,” Lucius repeated firmly. “Rumors are already flying about the two of you in DC, and I won’t have my campaign derailed by it all. The sneaking around and coy side-steps on whether or not you’re involved with some young girl have to end. So either end it and get on with your lives or be prepared to go public at Easter.”

Hermione and Draco shared a look, and it was clear they were wholly on the same page. Easter it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world to me, and I'm grateful that so many of you take the time to share your thoughts :)
> 
> Thanks as always to Elle for whipping this chapter into shape and encouraging me as I write. You are the best!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Thank you all so much for the love. I really hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I loved writing it! My eternal adoration belongs to Elle Morgan Black for helping whip this chapter into shape as always. Let me know what you think!

**April 12, 2019**

For someone who’d been self-sufficient since middle school, Hermione was a bit embarrassed to find herself yearning for Draco’s presence as she sat in a room with both of her bosses. How had she gone from working with realtors to sell her childhood home to feeling anxious over having a conversation with her bosses without her boyfriend by her side? Then again, her boyfriend was the primary cause of her anxiety...having Draco by her side as they told James and Remus had been such a comfort, and she would have appreciated his calming presence now.

Her relationship with James and Remus had taken a toll in the months after she disclosed her relationship with Draco, something that the blond insisted was only in her mind. Draco’s insistence was not strong enough to stand up to the crippling anxiety and paranoia that now colored every interaction Hermione had with her colleagues. It was impossible not to overthink every conversation they had and constantly rework everything she wrote, including the most basic emails.

And now, it was only set to get worse.

“All good, Hermione?” James asked as he looked up from the email he was sending.

“Yessir,” she nodded, smiling weakly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” James replied, squinting a bit behind his glasses.

She desperately wished Draco was there to take over this conversation. Her boyfriend had been frustrated that he wasn’t there, but both Abraxas and Lucius had insisted this was something Hermione needed to do without Draco’s presence.

_“You can’t fight all of her battles for her, no matter how much you want to,” Abraxas’s southern drawl sounded amused as Hermione listened to him on speaker as Draco paced in his living room. His grandfather had called from somewhere in western North Carolina, taking on some in-district responsibilities for his son as Lucius devoted most of his spare time to his burgeoning campaign._

_“I’m not fighting her battles. We should have a united front.”_

_Hermione sighed and leaned back into the sofa cushions. They’d been having the same circular discussion for a week now. She understood and adored Draco’s instinctive desire to want to protect her and care for her, but really, she didn’t need his help to give her boss a head’s up about going public. They were already past the hard part with James and Remus, which was telling them they were together._

_“Son,” Abraxas’s voice was gentler this time, “I know it’s a bit different for you because your father and I both married before being elected to national office, and we didn’t have to start out with all this social media hullabaloo and what have you, but if you genuinely didn’t believe she could handle this conversation with her boss, you wouldn’t be going public. And I know you’re worried about public reaction to her, but she can do this. You’ll be by her side next week when it really matters.”_

_Draco seemed to deflate a bit at being called out by his grandfather, and Hermione was thankful that she’d suggested they call him to ask for his advice._

_“It takes a strong woman to be with a Malfoy man, and I’ve got no doubt your girl can do this.”_

_“You’re right, grandfather. I’m… I’m just being cautious.”_

_“You’re being overprotective is what you’re being,” Hermione volunteered from her place on the sofa, smiling at Draco when he glanced over at her._

_“Is that Hermione?” Abraxas cut in._

_“Yes.”_

_“Honey, if you can handle Tom Riddle, you’ve got this in the bag. Now, go calm our boy down, and I’ll see you at Easter,” he said with a laugh before hanging up on his grandson._

There was a moment of awkward silence before Hermione realized she needed to start the conversation. She was the one who’d called the meeting, after all. Fleeting memories of Abraxas’s conversation rushed through her head, and she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. This was just another in a long line of hurdles they’d need to get across.

“I appreciate you both taking the time to speak,” she started, taking a sip from her reusable water bottle to try and quell her nerves. “I… wanted to make you aware that I’ll be in North Carolina over Easter. Draco and I will be out in public together, so… I just wanted you to be aware.”

Well… that was not what she’d prepared at all, but nerves had gotten the best of her. She pinched the skin of her upper thigh between two fingers, hoping that she wouldn’t cause a run in her tights. Focus. She needed to focus, and stop sounding so uptight.

Both men let out heavy breaths.

“I take it Lucius wants you in town for the annual church and chat?” James’ left eyebrow was raised far enough that it disappeared into his messy, dark hair. His tone couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than sarcastic.

Feeling like she was dealing with Harry instead of his father, she decided to treat him as such. This was a space she was comfortable in.

A breath, then a small nod. “I will be attending Easter service with the Malfoys, but I’ll also be spending the week in Charlotte.”

Why did she sound so damn formal?

“I’m glad you’re finally using your vacation days,” Remus said slowly, like he was really weighing his words. “But… I know I speak for James and myself when I implore you to truly think through this one more time. There is no going back once you’re public.”

James nodded emphatically before frowning. “Rem is right, Hermione. This is… forever. You’re so young. After you break up, your name will be forever remembered as the girl who dated Draco Malfoy.”

Remus chastised James immediately, “James, that’s not appropriate. We aren’t here to tell you that your relationship won’t last, that isn’t our job. But our duty as two old men who care about you is to let you know that your life will change after this if you want to stay in Washington.”

“The Malfoys are everything I hate about politics,” James shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his plush office chair. “Their name endures and no scandals can tarnish them. If something happens… it’s on you, dear. It’s not on Draco or his father. It’s on you. It may be a bit before your time, but all of us old folks saw what happened to Monica Lewinsky. The President moved on, but what happened will follow her forever.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she nodded, desperately trying to maintain professionality. “I understand how difficult this is to accept, I do. Which is why I want to tell you again… I understand if you would like me to resign.”

 _Please don’t fire me,_ she thought.

“No!” James replied immediately. “That’s not what we’re trying to do, Hermione. Are we going to have a shit show on our hands soon? Probably. But we can deal with that when it comes. If it comes… because you still have a chance to get out.”

“I’m not being held hostage,” Hermione said sharply, trying to focus on remaining tactful instead of angry. “I can’t see all that lies ahead in my life, but I know that this is the path I want to take. And felt it necessary to tell you and Remus.”

She left ‘I didn’t come here to be yelled at’ out, but felt it was clear in her last sentence.

“Well, we’ve tossed aside all semblance of propriety, haven’t we?” Remus chuckled. “So… James, get what you want out now.”

“Thank you!” the Congressman said emphatically. “Just think twice Hermione… I’m not your dad, but you’ve been good friends with my son for so long I feel like I could be sometimes. And like any good dad, I’m going to ask you to think twice about what you’re doing. You’ve met Lucius, you know what he’s like. And as someone who has a surly father-in-law, I even thought twice about my Lily before getting married. Draco loves his dad, and that man isn’t going away.”

“James…” Remus warned.

“I’m not telling any lies here! Lucius Malfoy is a complete dick, and that’s not going to change! Being in a relationship with Draco will alienate you from others and drive you closer to the Malfoys, that’s a fact. And that’s without even getting into the presidential campaign! The Malfoys all look and act like something out of Stepford already, and it’s going to be even worse with him running for the White House! Just know down the pipe, my girl. You need to be prepared to lose friendships and have people question your loyalty.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Hermione replied, trying to stay calm. “And what of my position here?”

James’ shrug was telling and anything but comforting. “Depends on how much interest there is in your relationship. As long as it remains ethical, which it is at this point, all that matters to me is that you can continue to do your work without any distractions. If Lucius wants you to leave work to stump in New Hampshire or Iowa, then we’ll have some problems.”

Hermione let out an embarrassing snort at that. “I can promise you that will never happen.”

The man wasn’t off when he shared his disdain for Lucius; it had crossed Hermione’s mind as well. Lucius was always going to be part of Draco’s life, even more than the average adult father and son because of their political careers… and she knew he would always hold a bit of snobbish judgment towards her. It was a conversation she needed to have head-on with Draco, but one that felt impossible to start. How do you tell your 40-year-old boyfriend that his dad - who might be the next President of the United States - is a bit of a dick and is the only reason you worry about spending your life with him? Or… at least the most pressing one.

James let out a laugh of his own. “I’ll hold you to that. Just… think about it. Promise?”

“Promise,” she agreed, though she knew there would be no dramatic breakup with Draco. Not over this conversation, at least.

“Now, I’ll talk to Tonks and reiterate our office’s policy on inquiries about staff members’ private lives to make sure she’s prepared for any calls that come her way,” Remus said.

“I appreciate it,” Hermione replied gratefully. She really did; having Tonks caught off guard would serve no one well.

“Anything else we can do for you, Hermione?” Remus asked with a small smile.

She thought for a second before shaking her head.

“No, I appreciate you both staying late to speak to me.”

“Where were we gonna go?” James asked. “Woes of working on the east coast means suffering through west coast scheduling, even on a Friday. Be well, dear. Think through what you’re doing. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Remus replied with a tired glance towards James, and Hermione hid her smile.

“Will do, thank you both. Have a good weekend!”

She took a deep breath as she shut the door behind them, knowing that whatever discussion they were about to have was one she didn’t want to hear. Some things were better left unknown.

No one was left in the office, which made sense since it was past six on a Friday, but she knew Draco was waiting for her upstairs. He’d had a tough conversation of his own planned for this evening, and she was anxious to hear how it went.

The hallways were empty outside of a few roaming police officers and maintenance workers, and she walked right into Draco’s front office confidently.

Her stomach sank a bit at the sound of a few voices. Who was still there?

Once she walked into Draco’s office, it was clear. His conversation with his team wasn’t over yet. Weren’t they supposed to meet at 5? Did it really last over an hour?

Pansy was trying to hide a smirk and Blaise looked expressionless, but the wide eyes of the rest of his staff were on her.

With a tight grin, Hermione walked into the office. It was time to face the music.

“Hermione, please come in,” Draco smiled, though it wasn’t a smile like one he’d give her in private. The expression was closed-off, far more distant than any way he’d ever looked at her. This was Congressman Malfoy, not her Draco. “We’re just finishing up our conversation.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” she replied, feeling a bit awkward as she stood in the doorway with her huge bag slung over her shoulder. Everyone that worked for Draco was affluent, and they almost certainly knew now that he bought her the bag. She felt the eyes on her, trying to casually check her out as though they could tell why their boss was willing to throw away his career, and theirs, for someone who looked the way she did.

“Sit down,” he said, standing up and gesturing to his chair. Thankfully, he wasn’t sitting at his large chair behind his desk, but instead was seated in front of it in a leather armchair next to Blaise.

Knowing this wasn’t the time to argue, she moved to sit down and put her Goyard on the floor.

“Hi,” she greeted somewhat awkwardly, getting a snort from Pansy and polite waves from everyone else.

“Where were we?” Draco asked in the silence of the room. He looked far too handsome with sleeves rolled up on his forearms that were bulging as he leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. Hermione swallowed, not out of nervousness, but desire.

“Gemma had a question,” Pansy pointed out, looking very at ease in the midst of the discussion that clearly had everyone else reeling.

Gemma nodded and swallowed. “Yessir, I’m… wondering what you expect of us? You’ve explained well, sir, but we’re going to get a lot of questions from people we know.”

“I consider our team a family, and part of that means trusting you all to use discretion. In order to make that easier, I will give you all information on a need-to-know basis. Hermione still works down the hall… professionality is important for both of us. You’re not going to see anything untoward, and I hope that makes those conversations easier to have.”

The communications director’s eyes went huge, “I didn’t mean to insinuate you’d do anything inappropriate, Mr. M! I trust you… we all trust you.”

He gave a short nod towards her, smiling gently. “It didn't cross my mind, Gemma. Blaise and I hired all of you because we trust you. We wouldn’t have this conversation over a week before this becomes public if I didn’t have every confidence in you all.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gemma replied, relaxing in her chair.

Hermione wished to be anywhere but front and center in the room. Theo and Adrian looked the most shocked by the news. Thinking of everything she knew of both of their families, she knew that they’d have a lot of questions to answer. Their parents probably thought that their sons were safe in the proper hands of a Malfoy, only to now have their sons working for a member who’d likely be embroiled in a scandal.

“Anything else?” Draco asked, eyes searching the faces of his staffers.

“Since no one else is asking…” Theo started, a bit uncertainly, “What happens if it goes sour?”

“What does that even mean, Theodore?” Pansy snapped back, tone defensive.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, his tan skin turning a rosy pink. “I mean… What if you break up? Or people call for you to resign?”

“Then we move on!” Pansy threw her hands up. “This is a Member of Congress who’s in a consensual relationship. You think that others aren’t snorting coke and soliciting nude pictures from college girls? This is the least of ethical problems among Congressmembers.”

“Thank you, Pansy,” Blaise replied, looking as calm as ever despite Pansy’s wholly inappropriate outburst. “Expect a lot of calls and media requests coming in the first few weeks… and that goes for more than just Gemma. Your Linkedin profiles say that you work for Congressman Malfoy, so questions are bound to come your way.

“Remember that everything you say reflects on the people of our district and the Congressman. If you have concerns, please feel free to raise them with me, but we expect you to maintain the same level of respect and professionalism you have until this point. Understood?”

A chorus of yessirs echoed through the room, and Hermione was impressed by it, as well as by the non-answer Blaise had for Theo. She knew that Draco’s office ran differently than hers, but seeing it play out was interesting. Everything was far more formal and controlled here, and she could see how Draco’s long-standing desire for control manifested in the way he managed his team and the culture he created among his staff.

“Will you tell the district staff?” a mousy brunette named Flora, one of Draco’s legislative assistants, asked.

“Yes, we will. Blaise and I are sitting down with them next Thursday.”

A silence took over the room after that, and Hermione tried not to shift awkwardly in her seat.

“I’ve kept you all long enough… Have a good weekend and a blessed Easter. You know how to reach Blaise and me if you need to discuss further. I’m grateful to have you all on my team, and know that our mission will remain the same in the days ahead.”

Everyone but Blaise filed out quickly, and Pansy shut the door behind herself with a wink that was completely out of place at Hermione.

Blaise flicked a look towards Hermione quickly before speaking.

“Well?”

“It went as well as I thought it would. I’m sure you’ll get some questions and concerns, Blaise, but it’s to be expected.”

Draco unrolled his sleeves and buttoned them up, pulling on his suit jacket and moving behind his desk to pack his bag. Hermione felt relieved that he was ready to leave; it’d been a long day and she wanted nothing more than to curl up with him, a pizza, and a movie.

“I’ll let you know. I’m going to get out of here, but I’ll see you Sunday,” Blaise clapped Draco on the shoulder before shooting a pleasant grin her way. “Hermione, have a good weekend.”

“Thanks, Blaise. You too,” she replied, waving awkwardly as he left the room.

Draco pulled Hermione in for a hug immediately, and she felt a bit surprised to feel him sink into the embrace. Perhaps he was more nervous about telling his staff than she’d realized. He was always the strong one, and right now, she could be that for him if it’s what he needed.

“Let’s go home,” she said into his chest.

He let out a breath, running a large hand down her back.

“Home sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

xxx

**April 21, 2019**

Hermione had laughed hysterically when Pansy asked how she was feeling about Easter with the Malfoys, much to her posh friend’s concern. When she’d finally composed herself, she’d shared that if this was a normal relationship that her biggest worry would be judgement over her awful singing, but now, she was terrified that she’d be skewered by public opinion before she could even make a case for herself. She was smart, driven, and had pulled herself up by her own bootstraps in the way Republicans loved to preach about. If they gave her a chance… she was pretty certain people would see why Draco was risking it all for her. That was a mere fantasy, she knew. The court of public opinion had no time for pleading one’s case before a decision came down.

In that moment of panic, standing in a gorgeous church for a Southern Baptist Easter service that had been going on for at least two hours, a normal relationship sounded pretty damn nice.

Sitting in the church the Malfoy family had been going to since before Lucius was born, she was almost beside herself knowing that once they went up to take communion, they’d have to turn around to face the nosy churchgoers. That was nearly enough to make her keel over in anxiety.

Draco couldn’t even hold her hand either. The fact that a young woman was glued to his side for the first time in history at church was more than enough to have the whole of the congregation buzzing. Physical touch was a no-go right now.

After seeing the tortured expression on every teenager in the church’s face, Hermione was certain they were bored out of their minds finding more pleasure in discreetly tweeting and texting and snapchatting photos of the Malfoys than listening to a ridiculously long, dry service.

It wasn’t that the Malfoy-Black family was doing anything other than sitting quietly; it was more that kids were bored and the news of a woman sitting next to Draco was juicier than any canned old Easter sermon. As hard as pastors tried, there was literally no way to make Easter Sunday interesting or cutting-edge. Everything to say had already been said.

Unlike normal Sunday services, they were taking communion by pew, and since they were sitting in the very front, that meant they would walk up last. It also meant everyone would watch them walk up, waiting for her to turn back around so they could see who the newcomer with barely tamed curls was. The Malfoy-Black family never changed up their seating arrangement, so the presence of a young woman sitting right next to Draco instead of Livana Malfoy… That was cause for a stir.

When it was finally time for them to move up front, Hermione followed the tall blond out of the pew in order to celebrate the Lord’s Supper. Though she attended Capitol Hill Baptist, the Malfoy’s DC church, once, she’d never taken communion at a Southern Baptist church. Since she was baptized, the church allowed her to participate, but she felt nervous to take part in the sacrament in front of so many strangers. Every potential gaffe had her on edge, including spilling juice all over herself.

Even though she couldn’t see people, she felt the eyes on their brood. Lucius and Narcissa were as put-together as always, and Hermione would’ve done anything for a comforting pat on the back from Abraxas or a wink from Luna to just know everything was going to be okay, but they were too far away to provide her comfort. She was on her own.

The grey-haired pastor gave her a gentle smile as she took the small plastic cup of juice, and the sweet liquid went down Hermione’s throat easily. No spills, thank God. She made sure to give the man a small smile of her own before turning around and following Draco back to their pew.

A relieved noise went up from all of the young people in the crowd as the pastor announced there was one song left, followed by hushed chastisement from their parents. Hermione looked up at Draco as the music started to play, a bit surprised to see that he was already staring down at her. He patted her hand discreetly, and she felt silly for tearing up a bit as a song she’d sang during her short stint in kids choir began to play.

_Because He lives, I can face tomorrow._  
_Because He lives, all fear is gone!_  
_Because I know He holds the future_  
_And life is worth the living just because He lives!_

Despite the words she was singing… fear was the primary emotion coursing through her as the crowd began to trickle out of the church.

She took a breath, allowing Draco to help her slide into her light spring jacket, smoothing down the dark green floral dress that had been approved by the fashion panel from hell the week before.

Narcissa, Livana, and Pansy had had an excellent time tearing Hermione’s entire wardrobe apart while enjoying mimosas. If this is what the rest of her life would look like… she didn’t want it. For a few very long hours, she’d thought that leaving Draco was a better option than suffering these judgmental women.

They’d eventually decided on a dark green and cream high-necked floral midi-dress that was everything she needed it to be. It wasn’t too expensive, but wasn’t cheap-looking. It wasn’t too skimpy, but it wasn’t too modest. It wasn’t too attention-grabbing, but also wasn’t too run-of-the-mill. There were a lot of hurdles that her clothes had to hop through for approval, if Narcissa was to be believed.

Livana had told her that the quicker she married Draco, the quicker she would be able to wear what she wanted without scrutiny. While the woman meant that as a comfort, it had only stressed Hermione out more.

Begrudgingly, though, she had admitted that it made sense when Narcissa had explained that the Twitter police and fashion outlets would immediately search out her clothes, and it wouldn’t do for someone of her financial status to be wearing a $200 dress.

All Hill staffers’ salaries were published online, and as soon as her name was inevitably made public, all it would take was ctrl + F on any financial statements for everyone and their mother to discover the pittance that was her income.

So Hermione felt good in her cream heels from TJ Maxx and a $60 floral dress that was not something she considered ‘inexpensive,’ regardless of what the Malfoys and Pansy might think.

“I love you,” Draco mouthed as she bent down to grab her purse, and he finally took her hand into his own as they followed the rest of his family out.

A cheery Columba moved right next to Hermione, something she was grateful for as she took part in an age-old Malfoy tradition.

A short message from the Malfoys on Easter Sunday had become what Draco called a ‘much-anticipated annual event’ starting back when Abraxas was serving in the House.

From what Hermione could tell, it was a glorified photo op. She’d only made one crack to Pansy about the irony of the devout Malfoys overshadowing Jesus on resurrection day before zipping her lips. Maybe, just maybe, she and Draco could joke about the audacity of the event one day. Many years down the line.

It was a beautiful, blessedly clear spring day, and the Malfoys were being watched by a crowd of lingering churchgoers as they made their way to where they’d hold their press event.

There were three large cameras stationed in a grassy area near the church but far enough away that the building would make a spectacular backdrop for photos and video, and even without Draco’s large hand on her lower back guiding her, the swath of 60 or so gathered reporters and bystanders would have had her walking in the right direction. She could see that a lot of people were dressed casually in jeans and jackets, a far cry from the outfits worn by churchgoers. Truly, she shouldn’t have been surprised to know that people staked out an event where all of the Malfoys were… but she was.

“He is risen!” Lucius greeted with a jovial smile, getting the standard chorus of ‘He is risen indeed!’ back from the crowd. Hermione smiled to herself as she watched a few older women shamelessly start snapping photos of the family.

So it begins, she thought.

“We appreciate you all taking time out of your holiday to join us,” Abraxas chimed in, voice carrying in a way he’d clearly perfected over the years. “We started this tradition some 40 years ago, and I’m grateful that it’s endured through children, elections, marriages, unpredictable weather, and… more elections.”

The crowd laughed at that, even though Hermione didn’t find it particularly funny. Looking up to see Narcissa letting out a soft chuckle of her own, Hermione followed suit. The last thing she needed was to look sullen and draw more attention to herself.

“This is a special year, as my son has just launched his run for president. As you all surely know, elections aren’t something we take lightly. God has blessed my beloved Livana and me with a beautiful family and the opportunity for three generations of Malfoys to serve the state we love. And we know that there’s no better day to reflect on our gratitude for all of you, our neighbors, and our anticipation for better days ahead than Easter. I humbly ask that you pray with us as Lucius undertakes this new challenge.”

She bowed her head as Abraxas led the group in prayer, feeling only slightly bad that she couldn’t fully get behind his asks for God to protect Lucius and continue to guide his service.  
“We all know how much the media likes to make mountains out of molehills, and we pray that y’all will stand with us through whatever mud comes slinging our way in the days ahead. And I’ll get ahead of the inevitable story… this hair? It’s still real. Now I’ll hand it over to my boy.”

There were rumblings of laughter and amen as the Malfoy patriarch wrapped up his humble speech. It was clear, in a setting like this, just how much this community loved the Malfoys.

“Thank you, father,” Lucius smiled, stepping up and waving to the crowd that had only grown as people flocked out of the church and over to hear them speak. “It’s always a pleasure to be with y’all, especially on Easter Sunday. Holy Week, regardless of how many years pass, is one that has me reflecting on life… On sacrifice. On renewal… On hope. And on unconditional love.”

The crowd nodded, many older men and women patting their children or spouse on the back and sharing small smiles. Hermione wanted to pinch herself to make sure she hadn’t entered into a Hallmark movie, but kept her arms by her side.

“My family has made many sacrifices for my career in public service. My darling Narcissa is the glue of our family, and has stood by my side while I’ve spent weekends in Washington fighting to pass legislation to help North Carolinians, and raised our two incredible children. You all know Draco and Columba, who we couldn’t be more proud of.”

Draco and Columba waved as Lucius spoke about them, and Hermione heard the clicks of professional cameras as she smiled up at her boyfriend.

“The one thread that ties us together is our love for this community, and like my father said, there will be those who seek to drive us apart in the days ahead… To fill the papers with fake news just for another dollar. I regret having such a dark tone on this holy day, but I want to speak directly to you on what’s to come.

“My honesty will come as no surprise to most of you; I’ll always give it to you straight. That’s my promise as a Malfoy.. So before we get into the swing of the campaign, I want to take this time to give you my gratitude for your support, your hospitality, and your commitment to working for a better Charlotte, North Carolina, and country.

“I pray that you all have safe travels home, and that the abundant blessing of the Lord follows you wherever you go in the year ahead. We love you, Charlotte!”

The crowd burst into applause, and Hermione was pulled tightly to Draco’s side as the man waved to the crowd and reporters who were now snapping photos of the group.

She felt a bit sick, a bit like a prop too, but smiled nonetheless.

 _This is what you signed up for,_ the tough voice in her mind whispered.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” Draco murmured above the din, and he pulled her away with Columba, Rolf, and Leo. The four older Malfoys stayed to field questions from the press, and Hermione was infinitely grateful to be getting away from the crowd. Lucius had fought to have Draco remain for the photo op as he had in years past, but Abraxas had chimed in and promised that no one would miss his presence. Lucius had relented after a tense back and forth, however begrudgingly.

“You good, honey?” Columba asked quietly, looking properly chipper.

For a woman who wasn’t regularly in the spotlight, Columba had her public persona down pat. It really shouldn’t have surprised Hermione to see the pretty blonde in action, knowing she had a lifetime of being a Malfoy under her belt, but it still did. She was realizing that she had a lot to learn when it came to looking at ease in the public eye.

“I’m good,” she confirmed, wishing she could just nestle into Draco’s side without sending both of them falling down the slight grassy hill they were climbing back up.

“I’m so excited to eat!” Leo exclaimed, running ahead of the quartet and flapping his arms like he was a bird and not a sweet little boy. He’d been remarkably composed and quiet during church and was apparently ready to make up for it now.

“Oh?” Hermione asked with a smile. “What are we going to eat?”

“Lamb! Rolls! Eggs! Grits! Shrimps! So many shrimps…” the boy’s voice got more animated as he went down the list. “And pie! Lots and lots of pie!”

Everyone laughed at that, the mood effectively lightened.

“Some food sounds good,” Hermione agreed. It had to be past 1pm at that point, and she wished she would’ve taken Draco seriously when he mentioned eating something substantial. How was she to know their church service would last over two hours? Weren’t Easter services supposed to be short?

“My son forgot to mention the mimosas. A lot of mimosas,” Columba winked.

“I can’t tell you how good that sounds right now.”

By the kiss Draco pressed to her cheek, she could tell he agreed.

xx

Hermione was extremely grateful to discover that Draco wasn’t lying when he said that the Malfoy-Black Easter brunch would be lightyears more comfortable than Christmas. Draco had warned her that Walburga would be at every family occasion; there was no way to get out of inviting a close relative who lived down the street, and that was something Hermione would have to get used to.

The brunch was being held at Narcissa’s parents’ farmhouse, and Hermione was in heaven. Draco hadn’t been kidding when he said they owned a ridiculous number of dogs, but he had neglected to mention the horses, cats, pigs, sheep and cows that resided on their land. He had said it was a farm, but what rich old couple had an actual working farm? Druella and Cygnus Black, apparently.

“You into animals, girlie?” Draco’s maternal grandfather asked, moving to sit down on the floor right next to Hermione, suit be damned.

“Grandfather,” she smiled, receiving an approving wink from the man. Draco Facetimed with his grandparents often, and the man had chastised her with wagging finger about using ‘sir’ often enough that she just gave in and called him what he wanted.

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart. No need to be shy in this family.”

Hermione laughed, looking back down to pet the two dogs that were resting on her legs. After being shooed out of the kitchen by Druella, Livana, Columba and Narcissa, the other family members had migrated over to a spacious sitting room.

She tried not to feel like she was being left out of their circle and distracted herself with the company of some of the many dogs skittering around the home. By the look on Lucius’ face, Hermione could tell exactly what he thought of dogs, which… made her only want to get on the plush carpet and play with them more. So she fixed her dress over her legs and plopped down on the ground.

“I’m learning that. I do love animals, though. Especially dogs… I always wanted to have them.”

“That’s why Dru and I have so many,” Cygnus smiled. “Our parents were stuffier than new teddy bears, and after we learned how many dogs were locked up in rescues waiting for homes… We got one which turned into two.”

“Which turned into…”

“Thirteen,” he laughed, running a hand through his short hair. The carefree expression made him look like Sirius; all of the Black men, barring Draco, looked almost the same. Attractive and just as fine, if a bit greyer and more wrinkled, with age.

“That’s amazing,” she sighed. “I hope Draco wants to have a few.”

She let out an undignified noise as she realized what’d come out of her mouth, and the man’s smile only grew.

“Secret’s safe with me, dear, though it’s not much of one in these circles. For Draco to introduce you into this three-ring circus… you’re not goin’ anywhere. Not unless you want to go.”

“Today has made that pretty clear,” Hermione agreed.

“The vultures start coming out of the woodwork yet?”

“I haven’t checked my phone… Columba told me to leave it in my coat pocket, so I’m going to enjoy the day while I can.”

“Smart girl! These guys will make it worth your while.”

She looked down at the two black and white dogs curled up against her, falling asleep contentedly like they’d known her their entire lives.

“What are their names?”

“Oh, these two are Gryff and Puff, they were rescued from a hoarding situation at a farm a few hours away. Tight as brothers, the rescue said they couldn’t be separated and who were we to make their lives harder?”

The dogs were both black and white, but Gryff’s looked more like a standard black lab while Puff’s pitbull heritage was clear with his big block-shaped head. They were both sweet as could be, and she understood why the Blacks couldn’t help but adopt the pair.

“I see where Narcissa gets her kindness from.”

The man’s expression visibly brightened. “At least two of my girls got it, hm?”

Hermione tried and failed to hide her laugh at that, and the knowing glint in Cygnus’ eyes showed her there was no harm done.

“What’s so funny?” Regulus asked, moving to help his very pregnant wife sit down on the dark brown leather couch Hermione was leaning against.

“Just talking about how hungry we are,” Cygnus replied, winking at Hermione.

Why wasn’t Lucius as keen on her as the other Malfoy-Black men seemed to be?

“Tell me about it,” Maryam groaned, rubbing a hand on her swollen stomach.

“You look beautiful,” Hermione offered, hoping it was the right thing to say to a very pregnant woman. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m as well as one can be while growing two humans.”

“She’s a champ,” Regulus chimed in, smiling reverently at the pretty woman. “Truly… She has dealt with my mom’s tips and tricks without complaining.”

“Do I even want to know?” Hermione asked.

“You don’t,” Cygnus replied gravely.

“I got a haircut last month, and apparently cutting my hair means I’ll give birth early.”

Well… Walburga’s craziness seemed to extend to even her beliefs about childbirth.

Hermione looked down to pet the two dogs on her lap, certain that a few people were cringing over all of the fur she was likely getting all over her.

“Oh, and I can’t take baths because the babies will drown. And when I shower, I need to use cold water or the babies will cook in my stomach.”

“I shut it down,” Regulus promised.

Maryam glared at him, “You did, but not until after I was asked what temperature we keep the house at.”

“I shut it down,” he repeated, pressing a kiss on the woman’s hair.

“Don’t you worry - my Cissa won’t be like that,” Cygnus promised, patting Hermione on the arm.

Hermione looked like a deer in headlights, flushing faintly; how was she supposed to reply to that?

“How have you been, Hermione?” Regulus asked, saving the day.

“I’m well, it’s been a long few weeks. I am hungry, though.”

“Same girl,” Maryam replied. “You’d think they’d have grazing trays after a ridiculous church service.”

“My wife is the most perfect woman I’ve ever met, but… I agree. Grave oversight to leave us foodless for this long, the masses are starving. Let me see what I can do to get this train moving,” Cygnus said, smiling before hefting himself up off the ground far more spritely than a man in his late-70s should be.

“Pregnancy has its perks,” Maryam smiled primly. “Let me know if you want someone who’s not Draco to check your phone with later… I’m sure it won’t be pretty, and if he’s anything like Reg, he won’t handle it well.”

“I just… keep thinking that there’s no way I’m IDed today.”

“You’ll unfortunately be shocked by how many people you know are willing to give you up for a moment of Twitter fame. One of my dad’s employees is the one who sent out the photo of me pregnant and sweating on a walk last month that made it into the papers,” she frowned.

“They were fired as soon as we found out, but that doesn’t change the fact that people are willing to sell you out on the most obscure things,” Regulus replied.

“Including sending photos of me looking huge and sweaty.”

“You’re beautiful,” Regulus smiled. “You’ll be fine, Hermione, but really…”

The man was interrupted by Livana. “Please head to the dining room!”

Hermione felt bad at jostling the two sleeping dogs off her lap, but was buoyed by their kisses to her face once they were more alert.

“You tryin’ to give my father a heart attack?” Draco asked as he walked over to Hermione, a smirk on his lips.

“I love dogs,” Hermione pouted, accepting his hand up off the ground.

“Me too,” he smiled.

“Grandfather said we can take one home for the week if we want,” she replied, hoping Draco would take the bait.

“Oh?” he asked, wrapping a big hand around her hip and pulling her close.

“He did. Can we? Please?”

“How could I say no to you when you beg so prettily, sweetheart?”

Hermione blushed at that, eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening to him. They were alone in the warm, well-lit hallway. The Black’s sprawling estate was what Hermione would call an ‘opulent farmhouse’ with high-ceilings, exposed beams, and modern, well-loved furniture.

“No one’s listening,” he replied, tapping her hip.

“Someone’s always listening,” Hermione replied ominously. She was right, too; Draco’s family was unbearably nosy, and she didn’t trust that someone wasn’t lurking around every corner. Especially Walburga… where was she, anyways?

“You’re not wrong, baby.”

“Lucky me, I got both my gals near me,” Abraxas drawled as they walked into the Black’s large, airy dining room. The farmhouse dining room was far prettier than Walburga’s home, fixed with spring green and dark wood instead of looking like a medieval torture chamber.

“Forget me so soon, papa?” Columba asked with a small smile, carrying a large serving dish into the room.

“You flew the nest, my dove,” he sighed. “And anyways, you’ll need to be near that daddy of yours and keep him calm. He’s on edge, and I think it’ll be a two woman job to keep him from blowin’ into pieces.”

“It always is on days like these,” she agreed before slipping back into the kitchen.

Hermione could figure out what they meant when she saw Lucius seating himself stiffly, scrolling on his phone in a way that looked far too pedestrian. She could only imagine what he was looking at, and was again grateful to have hid her phone away for a little while.

“Welcome back, Miss Granger,” a shrill voice greeted, and Hermione turned to see Walburga in a frilly mauve dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place as a 1700s burial gown. “I’m so surprised to see you here.

“Mother,” Regulus warned as he helped Maryam into her seat.

“What?” his mother asked with the innocence of a blood-covered woman holding a smoking gun. “It’s not like our Draco to bring a woman back twice.”

“Thank you, Walburga,” Hermione replied somewhat icily, taking great care to use the woman’s first name. “I’m glad to be here to celebrate another holiday with you all.”

Draco pressed a kiss to her hair at that, and Hermione felt fuzzy inside at the look she knew he was giving his great aunt.

“And we’re pleased to have you, gal,” Orion, the woman’s husband chimed in. “Don’t mind my wife, we’re all just a bit shocked that Draco hasn’t followed down the same path of destruction as our son.”

“He’s not my son,” Walburga shook her head. “A depraved, druggie sex demon is no child of mine!”

“But he is,” Cygnus replied solemnly, carrying in a tray laden with a rack of lamb and placing it down. “Sirius is all you, Wally.”

Hermione had to hide a smile at that, and she saw that Regulus and Maryam were doing the same.

“It’s time to eat!” Druella called after a moment as she, Narcissa, Columba and Livana carried platters into the room and placed them onto the table delicately.

Draco moved to push Hermione’s chair in while the men around the room did the same with their wives.

“Shall we pray?” Cygnus asked, and Hermione’s insides warmed at the way Draco clearly followed the habit of the couples around the room and took her hands into his own. She leaned into his side, content to pretend that things were normal for a moment more.

Draco loaded her plate up with food before she could ask, and instead of being annoyed, Hermione was pleased to realize he got everything she liked in perfect proportions.

“Good?” he asked, eyes searching her face.

“Perfect,” she replied with a small smile. “I’m impressed.”

Draco’s expression turned into the smug one that reminded her of Lucius, but she’d allow him to have that moment of pride.

“How are you feeling, Maryam?” Druella asked as she sliced up her lamb in a dainty way that had Hermione feeling like a heathen.

“I’m well, but wondering how much bigger these two are going to grow in the next two months.”

The older women around the table laughed, and it was a joke circle Hermione knew she was left out of.

“I felt like a monster with just Leo, but you look radiant,” Columba assured her.

“I’ve told you before, but I’m surprised to see you so… active. When I was with child, I didn’t leave the house,” Walburga pursed her lips.

“Oh, Walburga, it’s not the 80s anymore. No one stays home when they’re pregnant,” Narcissa replied with a withering glare.

“Yet another scourge of new age society,” the woman scowled.

Everyone rolled their eyes at that.

“How’s it looking on the world wide web, Lucius?” Orion asked casually like he thought his question wasn’t completely outdated.

The blond man’s eyes slowly dragged up from where he was still tapping away on his phone.

“As is to be expected.”

“Which is?” Orion asked impatiently, a deviled egg held between his thumb and index finger right outside of his mouth.

“Rampant with speculation and conversation over everything but my speech,” his voice was thick with suppressed anger that Hermione only recognized because of his resemblance to Draco in the moment.

Narcissa squeezed his hand in her own at that, a sympathetic look on her face.

“We knew this would happen, Luc… That’s why you chose Easter, right? There will be more substantive speeches. Best to get it out of the way early.”

Lucius shot a quick look of disdain across the table, and Hermione knew that it could only be meant for her.

She looked back down at her food, hoping for just a few more minutes of normalcy.

“This lamb is delicious,” she offered, taking another bite of the decadent meat. She couldn’t say she’d ever had lamb outside of sandwiches and wraps before; it was ridiculously expensive, but now… she might have to try her hand at making it herself.

“He was nice too,” Leo chimed in seriously. “His name was Fluffy, and he had three eyes!”

Hermione must’ve looked confused because Cygnus spoke immediately.

“Fluffy was in my flock,” the man explained. “Leo helped me get him to the butcher. And he didn’t actually have three eyes - just a darker spot of fur on his forehead that looked a bit like a third eye.”

Hermione did her best to continue chewing the bite of lamb she’d just put in her mouth. Obviously she knew where meat came from, but all in a very abstract and distanced way. She preferred not to think about her food as the living, breathing, adorable animal it had once been.

“Oh! I can do a toast,” Leo held his glass towards the center of the table. “To Fluffy! You were a good friend, but even better food.”

Hermione felt a bit sick, but was grateful for the laughter that overtook the table at the boy’s proclamation. To Fluffy, indeed.

xx

“Ready?” Draco asked, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple.

They had arrived back to his place with both Gryff and Puff in tow, and the four of them were curled up on Draco’s bed. It hadn’t even been a real fight; it seemed that Draco was hard-pressed to say no when she was in a downward spiral.

“As I’ll ever be,” she sighed and turned her phone back on. It started buzzing immediately, and she let herself sink bonelessly into Draco’s chest. She was laying in the V of his legs with the two dogs ensconced on either side of them, and she figured this was as good as it’d get in terms of places to be as she confronted reality.

“Start with texts,” Draco directed, his voice taking on the low thrum of dominance that always had her feeling a bit aroused and extremely taken care of.

“157,” she murmured, opening up the messages app. “Well… it looks like most are from Pansy.”

Maybe there was an upside to having very few friends?

She held her phone up so Draco could see as she skimmed through her text inbox without replying to anyone or digging into the individual threads. Even the preview of the texts served to lift her spirits.

**James: Proud of you kiddo. Let me know if you…**

**Remus: You’ll be okay… We’re here for you.**

**Pansy: I’ll kill you if you’re not already dead. REPLY**

**Cho: Is that really you??**

**Luna: I just dropped off some scones at Draco’s…**

**Mandy: Girl… Ru fucking kidding me???**

**Harry: Mione?????**

**Percy: Happy Easter, Hermione!**

**Tonks: HELLLO???? I KNEW IT. Reporters are rea…**

“Not so bad?” Draco asked, running a hand under the big Tar Heels shirt Hermione was wearing and rubbing her stomach.

“Not on the surface, I’m sure there are a million more to come.”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” Draco soothed. “How many voicemails?”

“Only three.”

Thank God no one liked to hop on the phone anymore. Texts were far easier to handle.

“Let’s listen to them,” the man instructed, and Hermione felt herself sink into his embrace a little.

At a time where she felt so uncertain and frazzled, Draco seemed to be completely in control. She had no idea how he was so composed, but she was grateful.

_“Can you answer my texts? Your followers are blowing up and people I haven’t spoken to since Harvard are reaching out like I don’t know exactly what they’re doing! Happy Easter my ass. Love ya. Call me… immediately!”_

Hermione turned to smile softly at Draco after Pansy’s voice faded out. She hit play on the next message.

_“Hermione… what the hell are you doing, girl? I have like… a million calls and texts and emails and DMs from reporters asking for statements. I was wondering why Remus gave me a lecture about protecting the identities of our staff, but shit.. Now I know. Okay, wow. So call me when you’re done with your boy toy and the legion of evil. Can I make those jokes anymore? Shit, is he listening? If he is… I knew you two were together months ago! And Hermione denied it! Bye! Call me!”_

“If Gemma talked like that I’d fire her,” Draco said, making Hermione laugh. His communications director was just as buttoned-up as he was, while Tonks was just as energetic and even more eccentric than James. It worked out well.

“She’s… a character, but I trust her,” Hermione defended her colleague gently. She hit play on the next message.

_“Mione? What the hell’s going on? Dad said to leave you alone, but.. Hey!”_

_“Happy Easter gal, I told Harry to leave you alone, but when has my son ever listened? Go enjoy your day, eat some caviar and foie gras. Just make sure you don’t drink red wine they try to give you... Baptists don’t drink wine. It’s the blood of innocent children. There’s no coming back once you’ve taken a sip... look where Snape ended up. I'm just kidding dear... enjoy yourself. We’ll face the music when we have to. I’ll get this one to go away.”_

_“Hey! Da-”_

The line went dead and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“If only the American people knew who they were trusting to represent them. I mean… that man is the voice of over 815,000 people in Congress.”

“Oh, stop! James is a good man, he’s just a bit fast and loose with his tongue.”

“That’s one way of putting it. How about we call Pansy and find out what’s come out so far?”

“That makes sense… I figure it’s better to hear it from her then check social media myself,” Hermione agreed as she hit her friend’s contact.

“Finally!” Pansy exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

“Happy Easter to you too, sis,” Hermione smiled. “We’re back at Draco’s and just going through all of my messages. We figured you could give us a rundown of what’s happened.”

“Well, some dumb ass from your high school tweeted out who you were when the first photos and videos popped up and the Draco stans confirmed your identity almost immediately. You have over 75,000 new Twitter followers and over 100,000 on Instagram.”

“Why does anyone even care,” she replied in a slightly dazed tone. They knew that this was a possibility once her face was public, but… why would people follow her? She didn’t even post photos with Draco - her stories were photos of food and boomerangs of her walking in heels through the Capitol on days she liked her outfit. They’d be sorely disappointed if they were hoping for content with a certain blond man.

“Why wouldn’t they care is the better question. You're making news on a day where most people are stuck in their grandmother’s house that smells like cat litter, listening to their relatives fight about the last will and testament of someone awful and rich who isn’t even dead yet. There’s nothing to do but stalk you and speculate. Talking shit online is one of the few joys these poor souls can indulge in.”

Well… that was one very specific way to put it.

Draco continued to rub Hermione’s stomach in a way that had her eyes opening and closing slowly. She needed a nap.

“How bad is it?” she asked in a quiet voice, and felt Draco immediately stiffen up behind her. This would be the hardest part; he wanted to protect her from everything bad in the world, and there was no possibility of that now.

Pansy made a humming noise, “About half and half, honestly. Hill reporters are wondering how you’re still employed, Draco stans think you’re a gold digging hoe, and others just think it’s sweet that he finally found love. Honestly, most people are just shocked he isn’t gay. Really, that’s the best part of all of this; everyone knows Lucius wouldn’t allow Draco to have a Democrat as a beard, so… he’s basically confirmed hetero.”

“Thanks for that,” Draco replied drily. “Has it made it off of Twitter yet?”

“In the past hour it has. POLITICO reporting that Hermione is the girl who you got angry at Slughorn for putting his greasy paws on, an anonymous source telling the Washington Post that you’re the last person they’d ever see going for Draco, and TMZ even has a few photos from you two at Filomena back in February. Nothing too surprising, but there is talk about whether or not you're legal.”

“I don’t look that young!” Hermione groaned.

“I mean… you do. Sorry, sis. They found your Linkedin, though, so people know you’re legal.”

“And media requests?”

Pansy groaned, “So many. I’m glad you told the team beforehand so that Gemma knew to just compile them all rather than sending them over individually. We’d be emailing you all day.”

“I told her not to bother checking them today!” Draco replied frustratedly, running a hand through his hair.

“Church is over, she’s fine. Better for us to get ahead of it now. Just don’t forget to give us a bonus come Christmas, hm?”

Hermione let out a giggle at that, despite knowing how much Pansy’s audacious behavior bugged Draco.

“Noted. Thank you both. I’ll check my phone and get back to her.”

“You’re still not doing any media, right?” Pansy clarified.

“No,” Draco said immediately. “People don’t need to hear from us right now… going out together was the only statement they’ll get right now.”

“Works for me,” Pansy replied. “You okay, sis?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione sighed. “Just annoyed that we even have to worry about what comes next. There’s a difference between planning for this and actually living it out.”

Draco’s hand tensed on her stomach for a split second before he continued his soothing touch.

“We’ll get through it, I promise. I’ll keep an eye on the chatter from Dumbledore’s little army of keyboard warriors, you two just go nap and pretend the world doesn’t exist while you can.”

“Sounds good to me. I love you, Pans.”

“Love you too, bye guys,” Pansy hung up, and Hermione turned to look up at Draco.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Draco’s face fell for only a moment.

“I’m not regretting it, Draco,” she promised before he could spiral.

“I never said you were, sweetheart.”

“I know that look… I’m fine. We’re going to be fine. But I think they have the right idea,” she cocked her head towards the snoring dogs. “Let’s take a nap.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled softly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.

Hermione couldn’t let it bother her, not when they’d have plenty of time to spend worrying about the world’s reactions. For now, they’d nap, soak up some dog snuggles, and try to forget anyone else existed.

xxx

**April 29, 2019**

Hermione’s first day back at work arrived far faster than she could’ve ever anticipated, and the only feeling in her chest was dread. Pansy had forced her to wake up early and put on a full face of makeup, something that she appreciated as they walked through Rayburn House Office Building to the gawking stares of a majority of staffers they passed.

Pansy was fiercer than a 7-foot tall bodyguard with her stilettos and a scowl, something that only eased Hermione’s panic a bit.

“You’re fine. Go put your head down, do your work, and don’t let anyone see you falter. Text me if you need me,” Pansy squeezed Hermione’s hand quickly before walking off to the elevator she’d take up to her own office.

Votes weren’t until 6:30pm, and Hermione had taken the last flight out of Charlotte yesterday while Draco stayed there to attend a few events.

Colin’s eyes were wide as Hermione walked in twenty minutes before the work day officially started.

“Uh, hi Hermione! You’ve been gone a while!”

“Hi Colin,” she smiled kindly, unwinding her scarf and unbuttoning her jacket as she placed them on the hooked coat rack in the front office. “Did you enjoy the slow week last week?”

“Oh yeah! You were right, it really is like a graveyard on a holiday week when members are out of town.”

“It’s a nice reprieve from our normal pace,” Hermione agreed.

“Agreed. Are you... Are you okay? We got a lot of calls about you. Some weren’t so nice, but Remus said we could just hang up on them.”

She felt extremely guilty at that.

“I’m sorry to hear that…”

The young blond interrupted her with fluttering hands, “No! Don’t apologize. People are just jerks, and they weren’t even from the district! Most were from Florida, which didn’t surprise me. Florida man, you know?”

Hermione let out a soft laugh at that, “I do know. Let me know if I can help with anything.”

“Yes ma’am!” he replied with a salute, turning back to his computer as Penelope walked into the office.

Most staffers were late on Mondays, especially when their district was three hours behind east coast time and they knew they wouldn’t be getting calls from constituents. That suited Hermione well, as it meant that her, Colin, and Penelope were the only people in the office.

The normally uptight scheduler gave Hermione an uncertain glance as she sat down and turned her computer on.

“Hermione… how was your holiday?”

“It was so nice to have a few days off,” Hermione replied with a smile, rolling her desk chair out a bit to make eye contact with Penelope. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine… Certainly less busy than you! Wow… I didn’t believe it when I saw.”

Well, Hermione had to appreciate her bluntness.

“I’m sure it was a bit of a shock for everyone. I appreciated getting your text, it was really thoughtful.”

“Of course! I didn’t want to bother you, but I figured you may need some love… the internet is an awful place.

Didn’t she know. She’d made the stupid choice to check her Instagram once over the past week, and had been barraged by comments lambasting her for her views and her boyfriend’s views as people took in her photos at marches and charity events she helped put on back in college.

Her friendship with Mandy had taken a turn for the worse, which had actually hurt Hermione. Despite meeting at work, it felt like their camaraderie and connection had been genuine, yet the girl had followed up on her WTF message from Easter Day with a long, outraged message about the irony of Hermione dating someone who stood against everything that Democrats work for.

She’d typed up an eight paragraph reply refuting each and every point that Mandy made, with the correct amount of sympathy for her lesbian friend. She’d sent Pansy her drafted reply, only for the girl to call her and tell her not to send it. It was a bit jarring to have to assume that her friend… former friend? would screenshot their conversation and send it to the press, but apparently that was something she’d have to worry about now. Cho was understanding, at least, at the moment, so she decided to just be grateful for people showing their true colors.

The snipes from strangers at her looks were a completely different story; those she could handle. Growing up with big teeth and a frizzy mess of hair had toughened her up, and her skin was essentially impenetrable.

She’d never had reason to doubt it when Draco told her she was beautiful, either. Maybe that would’ve been different if he was younger. Her boyfriend was a 40-year-old man who’d met some of the most powerful, beautiful, and wealthy women that the world had to offer and he wasn’t interested in any of them. If he told her she was perfect for him, then she had no reason to distrust that.

“I’ve been keeping off it as much as possible while I can.”

Penelope nodded, shoving a piece of curly, dark blonde hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled, grateful that her most frigid colleague wasn’t rude or overbearing and also slightly guilty about counting Penelope out as a friend without really getting to know her.

The day started slowly, as most post-holiday Mondays did. Hermione was still blushing from the dramatic scene that Tonks had pulled once she’d shown up an hour after the workday had begun. She could only imagine what the office had been like last week, when James and Remus weren’t in and Hermione was also absent. Judging by the looks on her colleagues faces, though, they’d gotten most of their gossiping out before she’d returned.

It was, however, the dreaded period between spring and summer that left them without interns, and Hermione was roped into assisting Colin with answering the phones.

She took two phone calls that were from angry old women who wanted to speak to James about allowing one of his staffers to date a much older man. They hadn’t known they were speaking to said staffer, thank God, but it left Hermione unsettled regardless. Did they really believe James had that level of involvement in his team’s lives?

**Hermione: Are you guys getting awful calls too?**  
**Pansy: We’re always getting phone calls from awful people. You’d have to be more specific.**  
**Hermione: You know what I mean.**  
**Pansy: We are, but it doesn’t matter. Blaise said we can hang up if they get obscene. I find great joy in doing just that.**  
**Hermione: I wish you would’ve told me.**

She clenched her fists, putting the phone down without waiting to see if Pansy replied. Both her colleagues and Draco’s staff were being berated on the phone for something that didn’t even have to do with their jobs. What the hell was wrong with people?

And angry was how Draco found her that night, furiously baking batch after batch of cookies in his kitchen.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, taking off his suit jacket.

“Hi,” she replied, not looking up from where she was spooning the dry ingredients into his Kitchenaid.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know, no one told me that both your staff and my team were getting awful calls about us!” she replied, frustrated tears threatening to spill down her face after building up all day.

Draco’s sigh was audible even over the whirring of the standmixer, and Hermione leaned back into his arms after he walked over to her.

“Sweetheart,” he crooned. “It’s okay… We deal with angry calls all of the time. It’s what staffers sign up for, unfortunately. You know that.”

“They sign up to take calls about bills people hate or current events, not a romantic relationship that has absolutely nothing to do with the work either you or James are doing!”

“Hermione… There’s nothing we can do. The calls are going to keep coming as long as I’m in office and you’re working, at least for now.”

“So what?” she asked, placing the bowl she was holding onto the table and whipping around to look at him. “I quit so that my colleagues can live in peace?”

He shook his head, running a cold hand down her mascara-covered cheek.

“This will blow over soon, baby… It always does. The next few weeks are going to feel oppressive, but after that? We’ll fade into obscurity until father gets the nomination next year.”

“That sounds too good to be true. I just feel so bad that everyone is being brought into this.”

“Cookies are not needed, but they’ll love you more for it,” Draco smiled, eyes flicking over to. “My sweet girl…”

“I love you,” she breathed, hopping onto her tippy toes in order to press a kiss to his lips.

Draco’s response was immediate, and Hermione let out a pleased sigh as he hefted her onto the counter and stepped in between her legs.

There was nothing inherently sexual about their kiss, it was a pressing of lips and touching of tongues that brought her more calm than she’d felt since leaving Draco in North Carolina days before.

Which was, of course, why they were interrupted by an insistent buzzing in Draco’s pants pocket.

“Shit,” he muttered, and Hermione knew he was just as frustrated as she was by his rare use of the expletive. “Hello.”

Hermione could hear Lucius on the other end of the line, which brought the day’s anxiety back to the forefront of her mind.

“Yes… Yes.”

She didn’t know if his voice was actually raised or if Draco’s volume was just all the way up, but whatever it was… Lucius wouldn’t shut up, and he sounded annoyed.

“Of course. Whatever we need to do, father.”

Hermione tried not to kick the cabinets in childlike impatience as she waited for Draco to wrap up.

“Give mother my love, yes. Goodnight.”

Draco tossed his phone on the counter as soon as he hung up, pulling Hermione fully into his arm. Despite knowing he wouldn’t drop her, she wrapped her legs around him and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“What is it?” she breathed into his neck a few minutes later, almost scared to break the peace of the moment.

“Nothing, father’s just being paranoid. He hasn’t heard anything negative from most of his top donors, which makes him think they’re talking behind his back.”

She weighed her reply for a moment, not sure what to say. Could a man like Lucius Malfoy really be that insecure?

Draco held his body tightly as he walked into the sitting room and carefully laying down on the couch with Hermione still bundled up in his arms. She didn’t have the heart to mention the half-mixed cookie dough, not when he looked as distressed as he did.

“He wants us to attend a donor appreciation dinner this weekend to see how people react to seeing us together face-to-face.”

Tamping down her immediate reaction, which was outrage, she ran her hands through his hair so that he was looking up at her instead of scowling off into the distance.

“And what do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, sweetheart. We’ll go for a bit, it’ll be fine.”

“I trust you. I’ll text your mom and see what I need to wear.”

Draco had a small smile on his face at that, “Sounds good sweetheart.”

“Oh! What do you mean by most didn’t have a negative reaction?”

The man stiffened at that, placing one large hand on the back of her head and pulling her towards him until she was squished against his chest.

“It doesn’t matter. They don’t even deserve to look at you, let alone have an opinion about you.”

Rather than get angry, Hermione laughed. It was impossible not to be amused by the way Draco didn’t let her pull back from his chest to make eye contact, like she was his favorite teddy bear. Which… she pretty much was.

“It’s not funny, Hermione.”

“Draco, my sweet,” she nuzzled his chest which was basically the only movement she could make. “A bunch of rich old white men who cheat on their wives and have the audacity to feign outrage over your consensual relationship aren’t going to hurt my feelings. They mean nothing to me.”

“They don’t know anything about you,” he replied tightly.

“Exactly. They know nothing about me. It’s easier said than done, but I’m trying to stay sane here. And allowing every stranger with an opinion to influence my self worth is not conducive to sanity.”

“My perfect sweetheart… No one deserves you.”

“You do,” she promised, letting out a soft noise of contentment. “You do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's Easter dress: https://www.lulus.com/products/floral-dressed-up-dark-green-floral-print-midi-dress/704052.html
> 
> Wellll... So it begins! Let me know all of your thoughts!
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com with your questions and ideas for outtakes once this is finished, I'm compiling them now!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments keep me going, let me know what you thought :)
> 
> Come chat with me at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com


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